


My Heart is Not a Wheat or Wheat Bypoduct

by lepetitselkie, wyntera



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Multi, Selkie AU, Shapeshifters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepetitselkie/pseuds/lepetitselkie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Cecil Palmer hosts a little radio show for the listening audience of Monterey Bay, where the sun is still hot, the moon is still beautiful, and people are not at all what they seem. Even marine biologists with perfect hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Seven Years Earlier

**Author's Note:**

> The following is the culmination of nearly a year's worth of roleplaying between the authors, resulting in a large and intricate universe. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed living it. 
> 
> We do not own Night Vale or it's characters. Any similarity or likeness depicted here is independent of any other AU or fan-created universe.
> 
> Feel free to follow the authors at http://lepetitselkie.tumblr.com/ and http://wyntera.tumblr.com/
> 
> Disclaimer: This AU takes place in a truly alternate universe where the Monterey Bay Aquarium has equal focus on protecting sea otters, seals & sea lions. The Monterey Bay Aquarium we depict is based on the real one but with several creative alterations that do not exist at the real MBARI. Any administrative representation is fictional. Medical and rehabilitative procedures are based in reality but the authors are not scientists or medical professionals.

_[The Irish] cultivated a healthy respect -- and often fear -- of anything that came from under the ocean, because those who lived beneath its waves were familiar with the mysterious lands beyond what mortals could fathom or understand._

* * *

The house is almost exactly what the listing online said it was: small, cheap, and seven minutes from his new place of employment. He had been wary of the mint green siding the little picture accompanying the listing had posted, but he is relieved to see it is more a cornflower blue and not the color of toothpaste. The amount of upkeep for the grass and the two sickly trees in the front yard will be less than ideal, and if he is honest the grass will probably never be without it's fair share of weeds, but otherwise it is otherwise perfect for his needs.

Besides, the state of his yard is of little concern to him. He’s here for research, not yardwork.

Carlos turns the key to his new home and is relieved to find all of his things have made it safely from La Jolla and are sitting in piles of boxes around what will become his living room. Walking room to room, he opens each window hoping to replace the musty smell with the fresh salty sea air blowing in from the Bay. After over eight hours of driving, the cool oxygen filling his lungs feels like breaking the surface after a long dive.

He turns to face the piles and piles of boxes around him and his optimism wavers just a tad. There is just so much to unpack and he is due for orientation at work in the morning at eight sharp. And, upon further inspection, the movers did not feel it necessary to put the clearly labeled boxes in the rooms he specifically requested.

But there is  _one_ thing he needs to get in order, at least.

* * *

"You have a doctorate, Carlos, the least you can do is put together a bed from IKEA," he grumbles. Pushing hard, he puts all his weight into it, and the last slat finally slots into place. "Finally!"  
  
He lifts the mattress from its position leaning against the wall and fits it into place, his full-sized bed now complete except for bedding.

...now where are the linen boxes?

* * *

By the time his bed is made it is well after ten and Carlos is exhausted but pleased. It's hardly anything compared to the mountain of unpacking he has left to complete, but he is going to count that as a success. Munching on chips from the bag that had ridden shotgun with him up through California, he wanders over to one of the windows overlooking his backyard. The moon is high and gilding his small square of grass in shades of white and silver. He thinks he might even hear the ocean from here.

Well, he muses, maybe not the  _ocean._  It is probably just traffic.

Carlos runs a hand through his hair. He really should find something more substantial to eat than stale potato chips. Go over his itenerary for tomorrow—he wants to make a good impression on his new coworkers. He needs to figure out what he's going to wear and make sure it is not all wrinkled or smelling like travel. And then get some much needed sleep.

He does none of these things.

In a rush of fumbling keys and wild hair he is out the door and jumping into his Prius. There is a bit of traffic near the boardwalk—tourists heading to Fisherman’s Wharf and locals looking for a good night out—but he manages to find parking and a clear spot on the sand.

For some people, home is where you grew up, whether it be small towns or big cities or vast deserts under endless skies. For others, the old adage holds true of home being where the heart is. Family and friends and loved ones holding more weight than physical location. Those things for Carlos are far away, and have been for quite some time. They stopped being home well before he turned seventeen, even if that is when he left the dry deserts of Mexico and the family he loves. No, for him, the ocean has called to him just as surely as the moon hanging above it. It is vast and dark and beautiful, and only now does Carlos feel like this place could be home.

Carlos walks along the water’s edge towards a rocky outcropping, away from couples looking to get sand in unfortunate places and the light pollution of the city proper. He gets fairly close to the rocks before his ears pick up the sound of movement near the rocks. Despite the darkness and their relative camouflaged pelts, he spots a small group of seals collected down on the sand.

Stilling, Carlos drops to kneel by the water and watch, falling back on his training. In the light of the full moon they look almost like animals from another world. One lifts its head and the moonlight catches in its eyes. It turns an oddly knowing gaze towards Carlos, and they make eye contact. Carlos holds the look for nearly a minute before the seal tears its gaze away, grunting to its fellows. As a group they shuffle into the water and Carlos watches as they disappear beneath the waves.

Carlos watches a few more minutes before standing again. "I'll be seeing you around," he says quietly, words drifting on the wind out over the water. With a look up to the moon, he turns and walks back for his vehicle. It is only then that a single seal—perhaps the same one—surfaces out past the rocky outcrop and watches the man walk away. If Carlos had still been watching, he would see the moon hit its eyes just so, making them glow in the darkness. 

 


	2. 1 - The Glow Cloud and a Discovery

Carlos crawls his way a few feet closer to the large seal sunning itself on the beach. He can hear his team of researchers behind him, making their own observations and taking pictures, but his focus is on this one. It looks to be a pregnant female, one he knows he's observed in the wild before. She has a speckled coat that he's familiar with. It is not necessarily wise to get this close to one, but so far she's paid him no mind. He's got his camera in hand, and belly-crawls another foot.

She yawns and scratches at her tummy as she rolls over to her side. The female is very close to giving birth and is obviously getting uncomfortable. She's liable to be cranky—and dangerous—if disturbed.

He takes a few more pictures, holding still. She's got a gorgeous coat, and so big! Carrying twins, or one very healthy pup, he would wager. Beyond her form, Carlos can see a handful of other seals from her colony, some of them raising their heads to look at him with mild curiosity, but mostly uninterested. The water comes splashing up around himself and the seal, lapping at his arms, but still he does not move.

Then the female rolls onto her back and spots him.

"Mierda," he whispers, tensing. His thighs and arms prepare to shove backward and run if she advances. The female rolls over, slowly and with a low grunt. She bares her teeth at him and opens her mouth in warning.

"You're okay, mama," he murmurs gently, pushing back slowly. He stays low to the ground, still at a crawl but backing away. "You're okay. Nothing wrong at all. You just go right back on sleeping, mama. We're all okay..." His stomach clenches when she turns toward him fully. She is not having any of it. Using the incoming tide to help her scoot forward, she barks and snarls at him.

Carlos gets to his feet and backs away quickly, stumbling a little on the softer sand. "Incoming, incoming, incoming!" he says, voice growing louder to alert his team.

Miranda gasps and jumps up from where she had been taking long-range shots and climbs up the rocks. "Move, Vithya!"

Vithya grabs some of the equipment and shouts. "DOCTOR RAMIREZ, RUN! THE TIDE IS COMING IN FAST!"

Carlos would rather not turn his back on the advancing seal but he cannot run well facing the wrong way. He bolts for the rocks, leaning down to scoop up his bag along the way and he high-tails it for his team. "Everybody up! We got a mad mamma!"

The other two members of their little party, James and Terry, manage to get up the rocks and help Miranda get her larger equipment out of harm’s way. Vithya grabs Carlos by the wrist and hauls him up. "Ugh, you're _heavy_."

Below them on the sand, the female is snarling and snorting, pissed that she cannot get at them. Carlos turns from his position on the ground, kneeling to look back at her. Everyone else is panting but he is barely winded, much to Vithya's annoyance. He sighs and gives a half-smile down to the seal. "Sorry, mamma, didn't mean to upset you," he says lightheartedly.

"Yeah, _you're_ sorry," Miranda pants, shaking her head and giving him a shove.

Terry laughs, poking Vithya's arm. "Not bad for your first time out with the team, eh, Vithya? Now you see where the _real_ action is, if you get a place on the team!"

"Never a dull moment," James says wryly.

Vithya chuckles. "Dr. Ramirez, you should have known better than to get that close to her when she's about to give birth."

Carlos stands, shouldering his bag. "You don't learn anything interesting that way, Miss Miller!" The other three roll their eyes.

"Always the optimist," Miranda grumps, shaking the sand out of her camera bag.

Vithya is walking nervously with everyone else. _That mama had been calling him some pretty vile things..._ Its then that Miranda spots another seal by their boat. _Ugh-- CECIL._ He is half on the splash deck and he has not even noticed them.

James looks up and stops. " _Sir! Look!_ It's that seal!" They all halt and Carlos grins, raising his camera to take a few shots.

Cecil is too busy investigating Carlos' bag to notice them just then. He is trying to get his nose into it... maybe he can snag something small...

While the seal is distracted, Carlos makes his way closer to the boat after telling them to hang back. He does not want this one to panic and turn on them too. James whispers to Vithya, "This one is Dr. Ramirez' buddy. It's not an outing without a visit from him."

"O-oh?" Vithya asks, but inside she is seething. She is gonna _kill_ him. "Is he friendly?"

"Seems friendly enough," Terry says. "We've never seen anything like it. We figure maybe he was a pet or a show-animal that got released somewhere and made his home in Monterey. None of the other wild ones are as sociable."

"Not that he lets _us_ pet him," Miranda adds. "And we don't approach him. But he approaches Dr. Ramirez, for some reason."

Cecil gets his head completely in the bag and—AH HA—he's found a lanyard with— _oh!_ With his _picture_ on it! He yanks it out triumphantly.

"You know, it's not nice to steal things," comes a voice from behind him. Carlos has pulled himself up onto the side of the boat, a hand on the railing.

Cecil's eyes go wide. Caught! He starts to scoot back with the lanyard in his mouth.

"No. No. Don't you do it," Carlos warns, easing closer.

Maybe he can just take the picture. Cecil drops it and traps the lanyard under his flipper so he can tug at the badge with his mouth.

"Stop, you goofy seal!" Carlos laughs, trying to ease close enough to snag the strap and yank.

The badge with his photo breaks free from the strap with a loud snap. Carlos sighs, watching as the seal slides off the splash deck and into the water, his aquarium ID in his mouth. "Why? Why are you so mean to me?" he asks with a laugh, pulling himself completely in the boat and walking over to the splash deck.

Vithya is dying laughing. _Oh gods below! Cecil is going to put that in his wallet, I just know it._

"You guys can come up, now," Carlos calls over to them, shoving the few things that had fallen out of his bag back in. He points at the seal, who is peeking out of the waves. "I won't forget that, little man!"

"Maybe he's got a crush on you." Vithya smirks.

James hops up onto the boat, laughing. "Well, he's already stolen a _flipper—_ "

"Tried to steal his hoodie," Miranda adds.

"Took a ride with us for a few miles that one time on the splash deck?" Terry says.

Vithya boggles. "He did _what_?"

"That was cool," Carlos grins. Their seal friend had hopped right up just as they were raising the anchor to move to a new location and he had come along for the ride. "The only thing that would have made him happier was to be wearing some sunshades." The other three laugh and make sure the gear is secure while Carlos readies the boat.

"And he flopped you," Miranda says, giggling.

Vithya is going to have a stroke. "While he was on the boat?"

Carlos opens his mouth to answer but his team butts in. James waves his arms. "NO! It was on the beach! Oh man, it was great! Carlos was taking some long-range shots for Miranda when she had her broken foot--"

"I could have done that myself, you know," she snarks at Carlos.

"—and he's just taking pictures, taking pictures, and suddenly that seal just crawls RIGHT UP to him!"

"And then on him," Terry snickers.

Vithya tries to cover her outrage at Cecil by citing standard procedure violations. "But that's super dangerous! He could have killed you, Dr. Ramirez. He's wild!"

"I didn't approach him," Carlos says, shrugging. "Seals can be remarkably stealthy when they want to be, or when you're focused elsewhere. Anyway, it was a serendipitous moment, to be sure. I let him investigate my camera—"

"—your _hair_ ," James titters.

"...yes, and my hair, apparently. He didn't even seem to mind a pet or two. I let him come and go and was a convenient rock in the meantime."

"And he got some amazing close-ups," Miranda says.

"Do you have them on you?" She's never seen these supposedly amazing close-ups. Probably because people would ask how he got them.

Carlos digs his phone out of his pocket while James is shaking his head. "Only man I know that has a selfie with a damn wild seal..."

"So... a seal-fie?" Vithya jokes.

"Oh, that's horrible!" Terry laughs. "You'll fit right in!"

Carlos laughs at the pun and turns his phone for her to see. "Let's just keep these pictures between us, yeah?" The image he shows her is of Carlos, his hair a little shorter and pulled loose from its tie, and Cecil's face smooshed into the shot. It isn't a very good photo, Cecil taking up more than three-fourths the picture and a little out of focus, but she can definitely recognize that face.

"What a goober." Vithya shakes her head "You'll need a new ID badge now."

He wrinkles his nose and pockets his phone, heading to the wheel. "Afraid so. This is a good stopping point for the day. You all have till the day after tomorrow to get me a run-down of any useful data you picked up. Miranda, we'll compile our photos tomorrow."

There's a chorus of 'yes sirs' as they take off back for land.

"What data should I be looking at, sir?" Vithya has notes on the colony, the number of mature adults—males and females—as well as notes on water temperature, pH, current, wind speed and direction, air temperature and ambient sand temperature.

Carlos gestures for James to take over the wheel and he steps over to Vithya, looking over her notes. She's glad to see a pleased tilt to his lips as he skims. "We have a group database that we use to add these to," he says, pointing out things about the water currents, wind speeds and temperatures. "I'll have to get you added when we get back, I apologize. It slipped my mind. Any notes you take about the seals themselves we compile into reports, and if they're a known seal that we have a file on we add the information to it. This is good preliminary information, but I'll get you a copy of some examples of what we expect. We just wanted you to get a feel for fieldwork."

She nods. "Was the angry mama a known seal?" Vithya has been itching to get to their known seal database. She promised Josie that she would check what data was collected on the colony and alter longevity and age data if needed.

"I know that I've studied her on more than one occasion," Carlos says, handing her the notebook back.

"I don't know why you make us keep a database, sir," Terry says, writing over some of his notes in pen. "Your brain is more reliable than that program."

"Ha ha," Carlos snarks. "Maybe cause I am not accessed twenty-four seven."

"Has she been aggressive before?" Vithya presses.

Carlos shakes his head, looking out at the water where they came from. "It's about time, for her. She'll go into labor in the next forty-eight hours."

"You don't know that," James insists, then grumbles when Carlos just gives him a knowing little smirk. Damn seal-whisperer and his damn seal-whispering abilities.

Vithya hesitates, then decides to go for broke. "Do...do you think I could see this database?"

Carlos raises an eyebrow. "It's for use by the Mammal team exclusively. We might be able to set you up a read-only account if you want to study, though."

She tries not to let her disappointment and irritation show on her face. "Ah, I see. It'd be...helpful to be able to recognize the non-migratory seals on sight."

"I'll look into it," he says. "A read-only account should be easy enough to fix."

* * *

 

Cecil is swimming just under the waves alongside the boat. He still has his treasure in his mouth, too. He's kind of hoping that he'll get a few pets before the handsome scientist goes back to the aquarium for the day.

* * *

 

Terry glances down and laughs. "Oh, Dr. Ramirez?" He points. They all come over to the side of the boat and Carlos laughs.

"Come to flaunt your prize?"

The seal looks up at them and grunts happily. He can't do much else with his treasure in his mouth. Vithya glowers down at him. "Maybe he's here to return it."

"He's too much of a ham to do that!" Miranda giggles.

"You better not swallow it, is all I have to say," Carlos says, looking a little stern. "You come in to the aquarium on a stretcher and I will not be happy, you hear?"

Cecil is excited when the boat slows to a stop. He swims over to the splash deck and rests his chin on it—looking expectantly at Carlos.

"Fuckin' seal whisperer, I swear to God," James mutters as Carlos walks over and eases down next to the splash deck. They all watch with baited breath as he reaches out and scratches the seal along the head.

The seal shuts his eyes happily and his mouth relaxes a little. The edge of the name badge is poking from between his lips. Carlos' other hand darts forward and he yanks the badge free. "AHA!" he crows.

Cecil whines loudly and ducks under the water. When Carlos leans over to see where he went, he pokes his head from the waves and spits a stream of water into his face "ACK!" he coughs, wiping his mouth.

His team is dying laughing.

Carlos shakes his head, laughing at his own predicament. "Hand me one of those fish in there," he says to James. The other man hands him a big fish from the on-deck cooler. "You want a snack, buddy?"

Cecil barks and splashes excitedly. Vithya shakes her head. _Gods. What a ham._

The fish is held down low—Carlos never makes them leap or do tricks for them--and he lets the seal take it at his leisure. Cecil snags it and swallows it whole. Vithya's eyes almost roll back into her head when he gives Carlos' fingers a little lick before disappearing below the waves.

The team ribs on him a little as they unload and head up into the building proper. They wave at a group from the shark team as they head in the opposite direction. "Hey, Lindsey, I heard they spotted a tiger shark at the five mile marker," Carlos says as they pass.

"Yeah!" she grins. "It was a twenty foot female. Cyrel went gaga over it. I've never seen someone so happy to see a shark."

"Aquino? With the touch tanks?"

"Uh huh. He is surprisingly knowledgeable about the movements of the local shark population. He's gonna have a bright future if he keeps it up."

"I believe it," Carlos says, waving her off. "You going to be around later?"

"Yeah—Jesus Christ on a cracker what happened to your BADGE?" she gasps when she sees the chewed up plastic ID in his hand.

"Oh, you know," Carlos shrugs, flushing a little. "Workplace hazard. Anyway, I'm thinking about doing a night dive later, you up for it?"

"Oh I can't!" Lindsey winces. "I'm having a date night with my husband."

"Your loss!" Carlos calls over his shoulder.

She waves at him. "BE SAFE."

* * *

 

Terry, James and Miranda head for the locker rooms, Vithya trailing along, as Carlos darts off to the front office. "He's the one that needs a date," Miranda murmurs.

"Tell me about it," Terry agrees.

"Does he not have a girlfriend?" Vithya may not always swing that way but, well, Carlos is very attractive. She could never say Cecil has bad taste.

There's a chorus of laughter at that, Miranda and Vithya branching off as James and Terry go into their locker room. Miranda takes up the conversation. "No. We have bets on whether or not he's some sort of monk with a vow of celibacy, or if he's a secret escort."

"An _escort??_ "

Miranda sighs, looking up at her locker dreamily. "A girl can imagine. It's such a shame that such a fine specimen doesn't seem to look _anybody's_ way..."

"Maybe he's ace?" Vithya opens her locker and digs out her street clothes.

"Well, we _know_ he has dated in the past, but it was all before working here." She pulls her shirt off and frowns. "Eight years ago."

"He hasn't dated in _eight years_?" Vithya nearly falls over as she pulls her pants off.

"At least, that we know of," she says. "Like I said, there's tons of rumors. Maybe he's just...super discreet?"

"Maybe." Vithya tugs on her shorts. "Or maybe he's into really freaky stuff so its a secret?"

"Ah, I like your mind," Miranda laughs. "But he's always _here!_ Ugh, I think he's just a workaholic."

"Married to his job." She buttons up her shirt. "Too bad he won't let me look at that seal database."

"But...he did say you could look at it," she says, frowning and looking over at Vithya, confused.

"A read only file. I wanna see the real one!" she huffs.

"It's the same information. To tell you the truth, we would have been upset if he would have let you," Miranda says, pulling on a fresh shirt.

"...Really?" As much as she wants to see the database, she doesn't want to step on any toes.

Miranda barks a laugh. "Uh, yeah? That's almost a decade of work in that database! No offense, but what if you accidentally deleted files, or messed up someone's readings? We keep it to the trained Mammal team for a reason." She shakes her head. "It's not anything against you, but it's our livelihoods. Though, I hear Dr. Ramirez has a backup copy that he keeps at home. Not sure if that's true or not."

 _That was the_ _plan,_ Vithya thinks bitterly, but keeps her silence. It's also disheartening to hear that even if she could get to it, Ramirez might have another copy somewhere completely off-site.

"I don't have to tell you, that if anyone fucked up that database, the entire Mammal team would be out for blood," Miranda continues, combing her hair quickly.

She pulls her own hair into a fluff-like ponytail. "I can imagine. Its the compilation of decades of research."

Miranda slams her locker closed, dressed in her street gear. "I'm heading out. See you tomorrow!" She waves and runs out.

Vithya makes a beeline for Carlos' office. Maybe he's left it unlocked and she can peek at the age data of the colony...

When she peeks around the hall, she sees Carlos talking with one of the recent interns. The man looks distraught, talking about one of the otters and Carlos is trying to calm him. She watches as Carlos nods, following him down the hall, his door left cracked open.

Vithya slips into the office of the Assistant Head Aquarist in charge of Marine Mammals' office and is delighted to find that his workstation hasn't auto-locked yet. She quickly opens up the file and starts scrolling, looking for the ages of the seals... _shit_. He's got it charted—several charts!—of the unusual longevity of their colony and the extended period of maternal-pup bonding...fuck even the length of time they spend _nursing_ and how long it takes to shed their lanugo coats...

Glancing around, her eyes catch sight of the filing cabinet. And the shelf. Several shelves...holding folders and notebooks and...gods below, the place is _filled_ with his research! Her mouth goes dry as she looks at the carefully handwritten labels on the notebooks... its all about their colony! 'Study of extended lifespans' 'Study of moulting and growth of juveniles' 'Study of colony behavior!'

_Oh fuck, we are so screwed!_

"What do you think you're doing?" Comes a sharp voice from the doorway.

Vithya jumps and spins. "Oh! Doctor Ramirez—"

"What are you doing in here? I don't allow people in my office without supervision," he says, anger in his eyes even if his voice seems calm. Maybe a little rough.

"I...I had a question and I thought I would wait for you." _Oh please, please do not see through the bullshit!_

"Most people don't wait behind my desk," he says, eyes narrowing.

"I, um...I got caught up looking at your notebooks."

She sees his jaw work slightly, and that might not have been the right answer. He jerks his head, indicating she should get up now. Vithya stands and moves towards the door. "Sorry..." Gods, she's going to get _fired_ and Josie is going to be so mad and she'll never work in marine biology again...

"You had a question?" Carlos asks, sounding far less welcoming than he did earlier today but at least she hasn't been thrown out on her rear.

"I wanted to know about...about the pups that don't shed their lanugo coats."

He hums a little, assessing her for a moment before taking a seat behind his desk. "You noticed that, huh?"

Vithya nods. "S-some of them keep their baby coats for a very long time...it's hard not to notice."

"It is a phenomenon that is unique to only a handful of populations in the world," Carlos says carefully. "One of my long-term projects, actually."

She swallows hard. "Have...have you c-considered genetic testing? F-for some kind of abnormality?"

"Of course it's been considered," Carlos says, and he's looking away so he doesn't catch the way the color drains from her face. "I've done them personally."

"What have you found?" _Is that what he'd taken some of their blood for? Oh gods._ She knows nothing about DNA of her own kind— _does it look different? It probably looks different._ She's going to be sick.

"Well, there were some interesting deviations from the DNA sequence compared to seals from other populations, but nothing too far out of the ordinary," Carlos says, flipping through some of the papers he had in his hands before setting them on his desk. "We've all but ruled out a genetic factor, but I still take the data in case I find anomalies that are more than anomalies. Environmental factors are being taken seriously, of course. The ocean has just too many variables to narrow it down yet. More tests."

 _Safe. For the moment_. "Is it related to the...the way the seals here live much longer than normal?"

"That's my theory," he says, smiling finally. "I won't get into all the specifics, or we'd be here for days. I've been working on this since I started here, after all."

"Is...that seal who likes you one of them?" She knows Cecil would do anything for Carlos...even let him take blood.

"You're awful full of questions today," Carlos chuckles. "Yes, he's in the study. Though I try not to take too many blood readings from healthy seals unless they show up in the rehab center or we're going a random test for contaminates in the water. He's got good genes, though. Never had any trouble from him. Well, health wise," he laughs, tapping his badge.

Vithya nods. "He is a...character." _Sure, that's a good word for it._ She's gonna kick his ass later.

Carlos runs a hand through his hair. "Anything else, Miss Miller? I'm surprised you didn't run off like the rest of them when let go early."

"N-no sir." Vithya shakes her head quickly "Have a good weekend." She dashes out before he logs back into his computer.

"AND DON'T COME IN MY OFFICE WITHOUT SUPERVISION AGAIN, MISS MILLER!" he shouts after her.

"YES SIR!" She races around the corner.

* * *

 

Carlos ends up working late, as usual. He inquires to several people about a possible night dive, but he gets no takers. He  _really_  wants to check out this strange phenomenon he's picked up several weeks in a row. A bio-luminescent cloud, just on the edge of the bay before open water that has appeared every two or three days. The movements don't follow known current patterns for the area, and any water samples have come up inconclusive.

It gets to be around ten at night, when he should be gone like everyone else, when he decides he's tired of waiting around for the other scientists to be interested. This is SCIENCE and they are just letting it float away! It might not even be there tomorrow! Gathering his gear, Carlos makes his way down to one of the MBARI boats.

The night is bright and clear, the ocean calmer than it's been in days. Not a cloud in the sky. As Carlos steers the boat out toward the deep chasm that marks the edge of Monterey Bay, he looks up at the moon and soaks in the silvery light. It feels so  _good_  to be under the night sky and out on the water. One of his favorite moments.

He kills the engine on the boat and drops anchor just on the edge of the rift. Switching on the lights under the boat so the immediate area underneath is lit up, Carlos goes about checking his instruments for sign of his elusive glowing cloud.

Maybe twenty minutes passes before Carlos gets the sign he's been looking for. He quickly sheds his polo and pulls on his wetsuit over his shorts, then gets his scuba gear on. Snapping a buckle here, tightening one there, adjusting a strap and tying a knot. All by rote at this point. He double checks his oxygen tank and attaches his measurements bag to his leg.

Carlos sits on the splash deck, does one last check of his direction, then falls back into the water.

His eyes adjust to the darkness much faster than a normal human’s, but visibility is still poor. He can't risk the use of his head-lamp, though. Not yet. Swimming down and out in the direction indicated by his gear, he keeps his eyes peeled for the neon glow. He sees it, after a few minutes--floating colors in the distance, pinks and yellows, aqua blues and lime greens.

Swimming closer, Carlos pulls out tubes from his satchel to try and gather some of the oddly glowing...whatever they are. It could be a collection of plankton or shrimp, a new species!

Suddenly, the glowing mass seems to move en masse downward, and Carlos tries to swim after it. He's so  _close!_

As the glowing mass passes Carlos, his next breath pulls nothing from his mask. Grabbing his air gauge, he sees it still has plenty of oxygen but there's nothing coming through the tube. His hands frantically trace the line but nothing seems out of place. He starts kicking for the surface but it's so dark, he's gone so deep. His training tells him not to panic but this is bad. He's going to have to shed his gear.

But when he yanks at the buckles, they don't budge. He yanks hard, harder, but the tough material stays tight. The heavy gear weighs him down and his lungs burn with carbon dioxide. All the gear strapped to him is preventing him from shifting! He kicks harder, expending his energy too quickly, but panic has set in. 

His protesting lungs try to suck in air that just is not there, salt water taking its place, and Carlos makes one last valiant effort to reach for the surface before it fades to nothing.

* * *

 

Cecil got chewed out by Vithya, Pam, Josie  _and_  Ben that day. He's got a headache and he's sick of being glared at by everyone. Carlos isn't a dangerous human, he can feel it. But of course no one trusts his instincts. He decides to take a night swim and just Look out at the ocean and sky to clear his head and relax. Pulling on his favorite purple and black flowered swim shorts over his two-toned skin, he takes his pelt down to the water and shifts, swimming out into the night.

Floating aimlessly in the water some time later, his mind wanders to one of his favorite subjects. Concentrating, he catches Sight of Carlos. He's on one of the work boats rather than the Codfather, his personal watercraft, which is unusual. Especially at this time of night. He tries to See what his instruments are saying but he doesn’t know enough about them to figure out what the data means.

Cecil makes his way to Carlos' location, swimming as close as he dares. He doesn't think Carlos can even see him in the pitch dark water.

Then Cecil catches sight of flashing lights in the depths. He's after the glow cloud! That pesky thing that belches dead animals and has been moving through the area. He watches intently. He's warned the colony to steer clear of it in case its dangerous. Maybe Carlos knows something he doesn't. But he doesn't like this. It feels  _wrong_. His instincts are screaming that something bad is going to happen.

The glow cloud changes direction suddenly, swarming around Carlos as it flows past him, and the brightness of the lights blocks Cecil's Sight from Carlos.

Cecil shakes his head as the glow cloud passes. Gods it was so _bright_...where is Carlos? He looks around and then spots him. He seems to be struggling with his equipment? Cecil is torn-- he doesn't know what to do. Josie would say let nature take its course, but...

As he frets, he notices the man start to go limp. Cecil doesn't think. He darts forward and grabs him by the arm in his powerful jaws. He's faster in this shape and he pulls the scientist up. Breaking the surface, Cecil hopes that Carlos will take a deep breath, but he hangs from Cecil's mouth, unmoving. He drags the man to his boat, but it's too awkward trying to pull him up in this form. He's forced to shift so he can haul Carlos onto the splash deck. "Please breathe!" Cecil tugs at the buckles and straps to loosen them and unzips his wetsuit so his chest can expand more.

Water drains slightly from Carlos' open mouth, but he otherwise remains motionless. Cecil pushes on his chest, hard and rhythmic, words tumbling from his mouth as he pleads with the unresponsive man. He nearly sobs in relief when a hard push on his chest makes Carlos cough up more water and start to  _breathe._ Leaning over, he makes sure that the man isn't going to choke on the water coming up out of him. He should run—swim away—but what if he's really hurt? He knows that lack of air can damage the brain... did he wait too long to intervene? And then Cecil sees blood, panic setting in.  _I left a MARK on him! His perfect, blameless skin!_ His fingers trace the edges of the bite Cecil left on the other man's bicep, now oozing blood onto the deck.

* * *

 

When Carlos' eyes blink open at him, oddly gold and unseeing, Cecil knows he has to flee. Pulling his pelt over his head, he shifts and drops back into the water out of sight.

Carlos' chest expands and contracts as he coughs hard, gold eyes opening and closing as he tries to regain consciousness. Everything is blurry, and the moon is so bright behind the man above him. Long hair drapes down, blocking features, but Carlos thinks he has pale skin around his mouth, a darker hand touching his chest. He coughs again, willing his eyes to stay open even as they close again.

Putting a hand to his head, Carlos groans then hisses at the pain in his arm. Did something  _bite_  him? Is that what happened? When he opens his eyes again he isn't sure if it has been thirty seconds or thirty minutes. But he sees a seal slide off the splash deck next to him. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, blinking wearily out at the ocean. What happened?

Carlos gets to a sitting position and puts his head in his hands. "Moon and stars," he mutters, throat rough from the salt water and coughing so hard.  _That was monumentally **stupid**  of you, Carlos_. He unzips his wetsuit further and pushes it off his shoulders, hissing out as it's peeled away from his shoulder. Looking down, he's shocked to see a large bite mark ringing his bicep completely, blood oozing down his arm.

Unsure if he's hallucinating at this point, Carlos startles a little when he hears the seal surface near the end of the boat. "You...you were..." He can't think, he can't process what happened yet. He's about to say more when his radio crackles to life, the aquarium calling out for his location.

 _Caught_.

Carlos is distracted from the seal and he stumbles up to the radio, calling out that he's pulling up anchor immediately and coming in. He's in deep shit.

When he turns back, the seal that had been in the water is now up on the splash deck, looking at him intently. Gaining strength and presence of mind by the second, gives a pained grunt. "No, no, you can't, not right now," Carlos says, waving an arm at the seal, but it's half-hearted at best. When the seal just looks at him solemnly, he relents. "Alright," he coughs, starting the engine. "You can ride along but you have to get off before I get back. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

As he gets the boat in motion, spewing apologies into the radio, something keeps nagging at Carlos. Something from before he can't quite remember. He glances back at the seal, trying to remember what it is but Al is on the other end of the radio chewing him out and Carlos hopes no one else is listening to this frequency. The seal barks unhappily when they hit a rough patch of water and scoots farther onto the boat so he doesn't fall off.

* * *

 

They come up on the aquarium quickly, quicker than Cecil probably would have liked. Carlos slows down and walks back, shooing the seal. "I can't have you on the deck now, buddy," he says, mindlessly petting the animal. His normal inhibitions are clearly missing.

Again, the sharp sense of something  _important_ in Carlos' mind, but he can't make the connection.

"Thank you," he says, giving him another pet. "Be safe."

Cecil licks Carlos' hand and slips into the water. Al Brubaker, the Head Aquarist and Carlos' boss, is storming over. "CARLOS RAMIREZ!"

Getting to his feet, Carlos turns and faces Al, the Director and Head Aquarist for MBARI. If he didn't feel like he was still going to throw up the ocean, he might notice the flicker of about a dozen emotions across Al's face humorous. As it is, Carlos just feels anxious and a bit nauseous at the thought of Al seeing him half-drowned and bleeding all over the place.

Al grabs Carlos into a tight hug. "You are in HUGE trouble, Ramirez!" He pulls him towards the aquarium at a forced march. "What were you THINIKING? You could have DIED! Good lord, did an animal attack you? We need to get you to the ER."

"I don't need the ER," Carlos argues, stumbling after him. _I don’t want to go to a human hospital and be seen by human doctors._

"Yes you do. That could get infected and it probably needs stitches. We already have an ambulance here." He's half-dragging him inside. "You're suspended for two weeks—with pay, don't give me that look—for misuse of aquarium equipment and reckless behavior."

Carlos grits his teeth and flushes. "I put in a request for a night team _weeks_ ago, if I waited on approval the phenomenon wouldn't even _be_ here by the time—"

"And you should have brought it to me personally rather than acting out on your own."  Al is in no mood for excuses.

"Yes sir," Carlos says, defeated.

"Your suspension starts tomorrow."

"I have animals under my care," he tries. "I'm their primary vet. What if you need me for surgery?"

"You will remain on call for emergencies only," he hisses through his teeth. "We have many other competent vets."

He's halfway to saying something sarcastic to that but snaps his mouth shut, nodding. They're coming up on the front of the aquarium and the waiting ambulance. "Sir," he says, grabbing Al's arm to slow him. "I'm sorry. It was way out of line, and I know it."

Al squeezes his shoulder. "I appreciate the apology. You know I don't want to suspend you...but it's company policy."

"I understand. Just keep me informed about the ones in rehab? The new rescues?" He bites his lip. "Is everyone going to know about this? The team looks up to me and I don't want them to think--"

"No, that would be a violation of privacy. As far as your team knows, you're on sick leave."

"Thank you, sir," he says, head lowering. They make their way out to the waiting ambulance and the medics swarm him. They do the typical neurological exam to determine if he's had any brain or head damage. When that's normal, they focus on cleaning and bandaging the bite.

"Sir, do you know what bit you?" a paramedic asks.

"Harbor seal," Carlos says. He's got his arm extended outward so they can see it clearly.

They talk amongst themselves, then ask, "Did it seem sick?"

"No. No, it was..." Carlos trails off, frowning _. The seal on the splash deck, the familiar coat..._ "He saved me," he mutters, looking to the side. _Moon above, if he could just **remember**..._

The first responders move around him like shapes through water for all he notices, until one is leaning down to speak to him directly. "We're going to let you go home, but you have to see your primary care doctor tomorrow to see if you need antibiotics for that bite." The medic writes that down for him. "Drink lots of water to combat the dehydration. Keep the wound clean and change the dressings twice a day."

Carlos nods absently, taking the note. Al is still looking at him critically, watching the medics work. Logically, he knows he should go home, sleep for a few days and thank his lucky stars that he isn't fired. But he isn't thinking logically, he just wants to return to his office and figure this out.

Al points him to the parking lot. "Do you need a taxi?"

"Probably," Carlos says, rubbing is head again. Al calls Carlos a taxi and promises to have one of the team drop his car off at his house tomorrow.

They wait in silence for the car to arrive. A thought occurs to him and he tilts his head toward Al sitting next to him. "Don't let anyone get near that thing."

"Thing?"

"The bio-luminescent mass. The thing I was trying to study." He blinks out at nothing, thinking. "It isn't safe."

"Duly noted." Al is worried about the man's state of mind. "Does it cause aggression in the animals?"

"No," Carlos says, firm. "But it's...not environmental. It's alive." A frown. "Or they're alive? It was...sentient, whatever it was. A swarm or school of something."

"And its dangerous."

"I think so. It's...a little fuzzy," he says, chagrined. "Hopefully it moves on, or goes back down where it came from."

The car pulls up and Al pays for the ride in advance. "Go home. Sleep."

"Thanks. And...I'm sorry," he says again. He says no more, shame finally creeping into his system and he gets in the car. He doesn't do much when he gets home beyond stripping down to nothing and collapsing on the bed, out in a matter of minutes.

* * *

 

It isn't until the next afternoon, as he's sitting in his favorite reading chair, curled up with a notebook and fresh coffee and the local radio station playing quietly in the background that it occurs to him. His hand has drifted again to his arm, palming the sore flesh hidden beneath bandages, and he remembers. _Long hair. Smooth skin. A deep voice pleading with him to breathe._

_Was it a dream?_

The show he was listening to ends and there's a brief commercial break before a hauntingly familiar voice begins to speak:

**_The sun has grown so very, very old. How long cold, fading death? How long?_ **

**_Welcome to Night Vale._ **

"Your mind is playing tricks on you, Carlos," he says to himself, looking hard at the radio. A gentle but eerie theme music is playing. "You thought it and then you hear it." Still, his fingers dial up the volume and he starts writing frantically, trying to capture the memory while he has it.

The show is, to be honest, bizarre. Dinosaurs attacking a PTA meeting, Secret Police, City Council kidnapping citizens... and the weather report is just indie music! All delivered in that smooth, familiar baritone.

Bizarre but...something about it resonates with Carlos. It's amusing, but deep, in perhaps a macabre way. And it's set in the desert—by the end of it he's imagining the little town being not far from his home in Mexico. It certainly would have made childhood more interesting.

The voice...it's foolish, to believe it may be the same man. A wild goose chase. _Plenty of people have deep voices. Deep, beautiful, sonorous voices that flow words like water. Besides, you were half-drowned and delirious. How on earth could a man have been out there in the middle of the ocean and then only see a—_

"Fuck," Carlos gasps, a hand flying to his mouth. His eyes turn to the small collection of books on his shelf. The ones that are not science. The ones that are fiction and at the same time are not fiction. Well, for some, anyway...

He stumbles to his feet and pulls down one of the older books, flipping through with shaking hands to a well-read chapter.

The radio goes on... another show follows. Its almost a _mirror_ to the one before. Its upbeat but somehow more disturbing than the one that was on previously.

Annoyed with the noise now, Carlos pushes the volume down, concentrating on this revelation. _Of course. Of course! He could have dived down, pulled me up to the boat as a seal, but then made sure I could breathe...and **moon above** _ why had he not made the connection before? The population in the bay! Their long lifespans, their oddly specific colonization, their extended time frame of growing a lanugo coat, and half a dozen other anomalies that suddenly made so much _sense!_

But it's all theories and conjecture at this point. Carlos growls to himself. He can't get to any of the information in his office or on the damn database! All he has is his back-up material here at home, what notebooks he has archived on the shelves here—all at least three years old—and he's been meaning to update his database back-up file!

All he has to go by right now is a bite, on his arm.

He gets a text from Vithya:

 

 

> >boss said ur sick. contagious?
> 
> >No. Is someone bringing my car?
> 
> >yeah me & cousin

Carlos taps the phone against his lips thoughtfully, then texts, ' _Can you bring me a few things from my office?_ ' He's glad his computer will be locked down, and he knows that Lindsey can let her in since she has permission.

 

 

> >what do u need?
> 
> >my notebooks, on the second shelf next to my desk.
> 
> >yes sir

Sending off a thank you text, Carlos goes and pulls on a long-sleeved shirt and some soft jeans, not wanting to look like a slob in front of Vithya and a stranger. About an hour later, Vithya pulls up in his car with another car behind her. It must be the cousin. She has his notebooks in a heavy bag over her shoulder. He opens the door to meet her, his hair loose. He still looks rough around the edges, his eyes have a darkness beneath them, but he puts on a smile. "Thank you for the help," he says.

"You look like hell," she says and she puts her arm over her mouth. "Don't breathe on me."

"It's nothing contagious," he says again, holding out his good arm to take the bag. "And we need to work on your bedside manner."

She hands it over. "Why do you need this stuff? You should be resting."

He takes his keys from her as well. "Just a revelation," he says cryptically. "I've been told I don't rest well. Need to keep the mind busy."

"A revelation?" she asks carefully.

"Don't worry about it," Carlos says, turning and setting the bag of books inside the door carefully. This is one theory he's not about to share with anyone. "Sorry you had to come out here. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience for your cousin."

"No, its okay." Dana is hanging back by her car, looking interestedly at Carlos. "I was let loose early anyway, and my car is in the shop."

"Sorry to hear that," Carlos says politely. He gives a little wave. "Carlos Ramirez."

Dana waves. "Dana Cardinal. So you're the seal guy."

"That's what they call me," he chuckles, coughing a little. They said he might have a bit of a cough for a few days, salt water damage to the lungs and windpipe. "Excuse me."

"Go lay down." Vithya shoos at him.

"I've been asleep all day," he argues.

"Al said you're SICK."

Curiously, a flush spreads across his cheeks. "Right. Thank you again for bringing my things." The two women leave him with a stern order to go lay down.

Carlos doesn't lay down as Vithya and her cousin demand.

The rest of the evening and the following two weeks are spent pouring over every observation that Carlos can lay a finger on. One of the first things he's going to do is set up a remote-access system for the database, even if it is just for himself. He's tech-savvy enough that he thinks he can swing it. And he might not have the most recent findings from the last year or so, but he does have his own personal notes, going all the way back to his first year in Monterey. He's even got some of the documents from his predecessor. Nearly ten years’ worth of research, all carefully labeled and stored in the spare room he uses as a home office.

Never let it be said that Carlos Ramirez isn't thorough.

Now that he knows where to look, the signs are glaringly obvious. The slower development rates, the extended lifespans, the oddly specific clustering patterns, even for harbor seals. It was always curious as to why certain animals were rarely found beyond certain invisible boundaries that he can now see. If he had to guess, he's say there are at least two colonies in the Monterey area, neatly dividing the bay to the north and south. The population spike over the past five years or so is still a mystery, but he puts that on the back-burner for now.

Despite all the documentation, it all hinges on Carlos' disastrous encounter with someone that may or may not be real. He spends long hours trying to remember every little detail he can about the man or the seal from his memories. Unfortunately, nothing new comes to light, and the messy scrawl of notes he wrote that first day are still the best he can come up with. It was just too dark, his senses too dulled by his ordeal.

And then there's the possibility he just dreamed up the whole thing. People see all sorts of things when they have near-death experiences. The brain synapses firing randomly and all that. And he might have even believed that, accepted the weird twist of luck life through his way and moved on. Except.

Except for the mark on his arm.

Carlos follows every instruction by the doctor for wound treatment but the bite does not heal well. Not terribly deep or damaging, it's superficial as far as the muscle itself goes. It will definitely scar, however. Every day when he changes the bandages and checks for infection, he can see more and more clearly the new tissue forming neat little marks, perfectly aligned with a harbor seal bite. There's certainly no way he'll be able to hide this from his team whenever he's back at work. He'll have to make up an appropriate story for that.

He's always considered getting a tattoo but never followed through with it. Looking down at the ragged but somehow still perfect bite on his bicep, he thinks this would have been a pretty cool one.

It's the bite mark that keeps his mind racing. The possibility that the seal he saw, the man he remembers, are one in the same—selkies, Carlos, _selkies_ , he thought they had all died out long ago—quickly turns into an obsession. He gets back to work and becomes a near-permanent fixture on the premises. His regular duties are tended to and then he spends hours pouring over the database, looking for anything that would be solid proof and not something explained away. People notice, but any attempts at questioning are met with a stone wall.

The thing is, he isn't even sure what he would do with the information if he knew for certain. He couldn't tell anyone the truth. Well, he could, but that would be pretty much the worst decision for everyone involved. _It isn't about telling people, it's about knowing the truth_. Knowing that there is an entire species that didn't go extinct like he'd always been told. Knowing that there's someone here, right here, that's like himself.

And if his data means anything at all, there's a selkie out there he owes his life to. Carlos would really like to meet him.


	3. 2 - The Moonlite All Night Diner

_There he is._

Cecil crouches low and watches as the familiar figure walks his way down the dunes toward the water. Just like he has every night for the past three weeks.

It has been nearly a month since the night Cecil defied everything he had ever been taught and saved Carlos from drowning. Saved a _human_. At the time he hadn't been thinking at all of the possible consequences but after Carlos had been dragged away by the older man at the aquarium and Cecil retreated out of sight, the gravity of what he had just done hit him like a tsunami. It had left him shaking and he had hid among the rocks the rest of the night, afraid to go home. What if he had been seen? What if the colony was waiting on him? In their eyes, what he had done could be considered a betrayal. What if they cast him out and burn his pelt?

In the pale hours of the morning Cecil finally returned to the safe-house only to find that his worries had been for nothing. No one was waiting up for him, the house calm and quiet. No one knew. He had crawled into bed, exhausted and relieved but unable to sleep. He was worried. Worried for himself, worried for his colony. Worried for Carlos.

Cecil had kept his distance, after that. He had _shifted_ in front of a _human!_ Not unheard of, of course. Dana has a human lover that knows about selkies, and Kevin from the other colony was mated to a human. But _those_ circumstances are different. They had proven themselves to the colony, that they were trustworthy. And even though Cecil knows Carlos would not betray them—how he knows this, he isn't sure, but he _knows_ this to be fact with every fiber of his being—the colony doesn't see what he sees.

Despite staying out of sight, Cecil had still kept tabs on him, which is why he became aware of this new development. Carlos had begun this nightly ritual about three weeks ago. Often just as it turns dark out, though not always. A few nights Carlos has shown up near two or three in the morning, exhausted with a manic look in his eye. But he hasn't missed a night. Not once since he began.

Every night, he comes to the water. Sometimes sitting down, maybe not relaxed but at least calm. Other times he paces the length of the shoreline between two sets of rocks that jut out into the water, agitated, like he can't control it. Like something prowling in a cage. Cecil isn't used to seeing that behavior in a human, especially when there is no reason for it. He watches it from afar, hidden just below the waves or behind one of the rocky outcroppings.

Either way, calm or not, Carlos comes down every night and _talks_. Rambles on about all manner of subjects, everything that crosses his mind, it seems. A good portion of it is related to his work at the aquarium, which Cecil only follows about half of, or the work of other scientists in his field, of which Cecil understands almost nothing. Other time, his words turn to Cecil, though he doesn't know Cecil's name or that he’s there. Just wishing he had the chance to talk to him. But he never says what he would say if given the chance. It makes Cecil burn with curiosity.

 _Tonight_ , Cecil thinks as he waits by the rocks he has used for cover all these nights. This time he's there as a human, his pelt tucked safely away behind him in a crevice in the rocks. Tonight, he's going to pluck up the courage and go introduce himself. He's thought of a hundred different scenarios, opening lines, excuses to be out on the beach that time of night, but what he will say when the time comes is still up in the air.

 _That doesn't mean I can't watch first_ , he thinks, crouching lower behind the rocks when he sees Carlos coming.

Cecil is used to seeing Carlos come down to the beach and kick off his shoes and walk out into the water, but as he's peeking out, Carlos stops just before the water and looks up at the sky, silent. No words are spoken for several long minutes, making Cecil nervous. He watches as Carlos looks up and down the beach a few times, then up behind him at the dunes and tall grass, like he's checking to make sure he's alone. That makes Cecil frown. This seems so out of character for the scientist. Maybe sleeping at his desk and the late beach walks have addled his brain a little?

The other man turns back to the ocean, looking out at the darkening horizon, and closes his eyes. And then, before Cecil's disbelieving eyes, in the space of one breath and the next, the figure shifts from that of a man to that of a great black beast. It takes the selkie a moment to realize just what he is seeing—fur as black as night, larger than any dog he's ever seen, the wolf raises its head to the sky.

Cecil's jaw drops. He’s downwind so the wolf cannot catch his scent, but the wolf isn’t _deaf_. Shocked, Cecil takes a step backwards, foot slipping on the smooth stones, and he falls back with a splash into a tide pool.

Jerking his head and body around at the unexpected sound, the wolf tenses, straining his senses to pinpoint the sound. Cecil is lucky he didn't gasp or yell as he fell, and even though he is sitting in an inch or two of water and thoroughly soaking his shorts, he holds still as a stone. He’s just out of sight, the rocky outcrop barely covering him, and he prays to the gods below that the wolf does not come barreling over the edge at him.  
  
When nothing happens after a few minutes, Cecil risks easing up onto his knees to look over the rocks. The wolf is closer to the water now, shaking out his fur and stretching, scenting the area. Another look back at the empty dunes, then the wolf is bounding toward the water, running full on into the surf and getting thoroughly soaked.

Watching the wolf play in the waves, Cecil marvels at this new revelation. He saved another _shifter._ The shape shifting species are so disconnected from one another, he has never even really met another kind. And _Carlos_ , his beautiful perfect scientist that he's watched from afar for so very long, is a wolf shifter. A wolf shifter that comes down to the beach every night just to talk to _him_.

Out in the water, Carlos wades out far enough to doggy paddle through the uneven surf; from this distance he’s nothing but a dark shape topped with two little pointed ears. He makes a few passes back and forth before emerging onto the shore, shaking his body from muzzle to tail and sending salt water flying in all directions. Cecil has to stifle his laughter at that. It’s clear from even this distance that the wolf's fur is just as thick and luxurious as the man's hair, and Cecil thinks he might even be able to spot a hint of gray at the muzzle. His tail is wagging as he trots up to the dry sand that is still warmed through from the sun of the day and falls and rolls onto his back, long legs with huge paws flailing in the air as he wiggles about. He looks so _happy,_ happier than the human he's seen every day for the past three weeks.

Then the wind shifts direction, blowing at Cecil's back.

The wolf stills on his side, ears pricking up, back facing Cecil as the unfamiliar scent hits his sensitive nose. His head quickly turns and suddenly Cecil has two golden eyes looking right at him from across the sand. Cecil yelps a little at how _fast_ he moved and the sudden intensity of that stare.  
  
Nothing but the sound of the crashing waves fills the air for a long, tense moment. The wolf stands slowly, eyes never leaving Cecil. He might not be familiar with dog body language, but judging by the wide eyes, pinned down ears, and crouched stance, Cecil can tell Carlos is ready to bolt at any moment.

"Don't...don't run!" Cecil calls out, holding his empty hands up in a gesture to show he's not dangerous. “I'm not going to hurt you! Although, uh, you could probably do a lot more damage than I could. Wow, you're really big."

The wolf's weight shifts a little bit on his feet, but otherwise he keeps his eyes on Cecil. Waiting. Anxious.

Cecil's voice wavers a little. "Um...You're Carlos, right? Carlos Ramirez?” As soon as his name is said, Carlos' ears pin back completely against his head and he shrinks down a bit, just a hint of perfectly straight, sharp white teeth bared. All that and the whites of Carlos' eyes showing are all signs that the wolf must be terrified.

"No! No no! Don't be scared! Please, don't be scared, I--" Cecil frets for a few seconds. "Wait...wait here, okay? I have...I-I'm like you." He takes his eyes off Carlos for maybe two seconds to reach for his pelt, and when he turns back Carlos is standing half as close as he was before, still a little low to the ground but a curious tilt to his head.

"Wow, you're really fast!" squeaks Cecil, startled. His heart is hammering in his chest at being this close to such a large predator, but he has to keep his wits about him. Holding his fur tight to his chest, Cecil stammers, "You n-nearly drowned about a week ago and a seal saved you, right? You remember that seal that saved you? Um. That was me."

Carlos' ears fly up, eyes widening. But he doesn't shift, so Cecil knows he's going to have to prove this. He chews his lip and slips down the rocks onto the sand. "Don't run away...or scream or howl or anything loud. Please."

For a moment, the wolf does not react. Then one foot is put forward, a little dig into the sand, an indicator he should go on.

Cecil feels exposed and vulnerable, and it is with shaking hands that he lifts the fur up over his head and shifts, his body becoming that of a harbor seal. This is so dangerous—Carlos is a large, fast land predator, and if he decided to strike there would be little Cecil could do to stop him, or time for him to escape.  Cecil tries his best to look cute and harmless, like all those times he spent with Carlos at his work.

The wolf takes two steps back at the change, one paw curled up under him in surprise. They stare at each other for a handful of moments before that paw is lowered, and hesitant steps are made toward this newcomer. Carlos' head lowers and he sniffs at Cecil. Something registers on his face that Cecil reads as recognition, and his tail wags. Cecil scoots closer in response and puffs happily at Carlos, showing that yes, he is harmless.

Emboldened, Carlos steps closer, then a little closer still, until he can stretch out his neck and their snouts are sniffing close together, noses bumping. Carlos takes a final two steps and gives Cecil a lick to his cheek, wagging happily. Cecil sniffs at his face and neck and rubs his nose against the soft fur. His hair is _perfect_ in any form!

The wolf moves around Cecil more freely now, trotting around him a few times to look at him from all sides, before coming around to his front and laying down in the sand on his stomach. His mouth opens to pant as he looks at the seal, tail thumping on the sand at this unexpected development.

Cecil shifts back, letting his pelt hang on him like a robe. "Masters of us all, I can't believe it,” he breathes out, putting a hand to his face to try and contain his giddy grin. This is so much more than he ever dreamed. “I've never met a wolf shifter before. I've never met hardly _any_ shifters before but definitely not a wolf one! May I...?" He holds out his hand as if to touch Carlos' fur, but his fingers curl inward and recoil slightly. _My, his muzzle is awfully big._

Sensing the slight unease, the wolf turns his head to the side so that the massive jaws are not as threatening. Cecil feels free then to reach out and pat Carlos on the head, then pet him properly when that is met with more wagging encouragement. And the fur is unlike any dog he has ever touched, like thick strands of glossy silk.

Cecil simply can't hold in his questions any longer.

"Why didn't you just shift and swim?" he asks, the first thing that filters out through the jumble of thoughts swirling in his head. “I mean, couldn't you have gotten up out of the water faster that way? Aren't you stronger like this?”

There's a moment where Cecil is petting the wolf, and in the space between one blink and the next he has his hands in Carlos' curls. Cecil yelps and pulls his hand back "Sorry! Wow you don't need anything to change at all! How do you do that?"

Carlos still looks a little shocked at this turn of events, all his weight on one leg curled beneath him, the other bent and foot planted as if he was ready to run all the same. But for now, he looks to be more curious than fearful. "I...no, I don't need anything to shift. And I couldn't, with all that equipment on. The buckles holding it on caught and I couldn't..." He trails off, shaking his head and smiling. "You're a _selkie_."

Cecil nods. "Is werewolf the right word for you?" he asks awkwardly. Gods, he doesn't want to offend the other man. "I mean you don't...you're...the moon isn't full."

That makes Carlos smile wider, amused. "No, no, the moon thing is just a myth. We prefer the term lycan, actually. And, and I can't believe you're _real_! I had wondered, but all the evidence seemed circumstantial at best and everything was a blur and—sorry. What I mean is, uh, you're a selkie? Is selkie your preferred name?" Then he looks a little chagrined. "Actually, uh...I didn't catch your name?"

“Oh!” Cecil laughs. "Cecil. Cecil Palmer, and selkie is fine. I'm glad you're actually pronouncing it right.”

“Cecil Palmer?” Carlos looks lost for a moment, then gasps as he recognizes that voice. “Cecil _Palmer!_ From that radio show! Welcome to Night Vale! That's _you?”_

Cheeks turning bright pink, Cecil is glad of the night surrounding them. "Yeah! You've heard that?”

“Just recently, over the past few weeks I stumbled across it. Since I had some time to myself.”

Cecil might explode with excitement—Carlos listens to his show! “That's great! And... Um...I know about your work. It's amazing, what you've done at MBARI."

"You do? I...thank you! I don't really get many people that know much about it. And I guess you would know more about that sort of thing that most, right? Being a-a seal and all. But...but, your show is really great. I listen to it whenever I can..." he trails off, still staring at Cecil with perhaps a little awe. Cecil can't remember the last time he was looked at quite like this. "I can't believe you're really here."

Cecil grins a little. "Because you're a fan?" he teases.

He laughs. "No! I mean, yes, but...not _that_." Carlos flushes a light rose. It is really quite attractive on his dark skin. "Sorry, I mean...I've been wanting to thank you." He puts a hand over his bicep, the large bandage just barely peeking out from beneath his shirt sleeve.

The smile falls from Cecil's face in an instant. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bite that hard!"

Carlos shakes his head quickly. "There is nothing to apologize for. I would have drowned if you hadn't been there; a little bite is nothing." He reaches out as if to take Cecil's hand in his but hesitates, putting it back on his own knee. "Thank you, Cecil. Thank you, just, so so much. I would have died for certain without you there. I'm in your debt."

"Oh, gods below, don't say it like that!" Cecil exclaims, making a face.

"I'm… sorry. I didn't mean to..." Carlos sighs, frowning at his own ineptitude. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything."

"You didn't! I just..." Cecil goes very red. "I don't want you to think you _owe_ me." That is the very last thing Cecil wants. That is no way to start a relationship—friendship! Hopeful acquaintanceship? Anything that involves semi-regular talking to each other, really, Cecil will take what he can get.

"I don't?" Carlos asks, looking unsure.

"No! Of course not! I would have done it again, I couldn't just let you--” Cecil's throat tightens up at that, because he would really rather not voice just what had almost happened to Carlos. It is not even worth repeating. Besides, Cecil has other things worth worrying about. “You aren't going to tell anyone, are you? About me and my kind?" he asks softly, a touch of fear creeping in his voice. Everything in him tells him Carlos wouldn't, but he has to be _sure._

Carlos' eyes go wide. "Never! That would be just... awful! I mean, I had noticed the discrepancies in my research and after our encounter that evening I was able to put a lot of data points together, and a lot of my findings started to finally make sense, but sharing something like this—outing a whole shifter species! I would be the worst type of person, and certainly hypocritical, since I wouldn't want the same thing to be done to me! That's one of the cardinal rules of our kind, isn’t it? No, I would never do that. And I promise you I'll make sure none of the other scientists find out, either," he says sincerely.

The wave of relief that hits Cecil is almost tangible, and his shoulders slump as he smiles. "Thank you, you don't know how worried I've been about this," he admits.

"You'll never need to worry about that from me, Cecil," Carlos insists. They smile at each other for a moment before Carlos asks, "So, are... are you one of the seals I've encountered in the bay?" Carlos does not say that Cecil's scent is achingly familiar to him, but he studies certain subjects close-up so infrequently that individual seals are difficult to distinguish. The only ones he knows truly by scent are the ones he's worked with in the rescue and rehab center.

Cecil tugs at one of his nails—neat and perfectly manicured. "Well, uh. I...um...it's kind of dark out... you probably don't recognize me...” he mumbles.

"What do you mean?"

"The... the seal. The one that bothers you at work?" He hides his face in his hands.

Carlos opens his mouth, frowning at Cecil, and leans forward. Cecil realizes he's taking in deep breaths, taking in his _scent_. Then Carlos' hand flies to his mouth and his face lights up. "Moon and stars, Gershwin! It _is_ you!"

Cecil whines into his hands, embarrassed. He has always wondered about how Carlos knew his middle name but he's distracted by Carlos' next statement.

"You're the one that keeps coming up to me all the time and you tried to steal my ID badge and-and-and you _flopped_ on me!"

"I did not _flop!_ " Cecil exclaims, looking at him from between the lattice of his fingers.

"Yes you did!" Carlos laughs, wagging his finger at him. "You flopped on me and wouldn't let up even when I was shoving at you!"

"You were laughing! And you petted me!"

"I did," he says, laughing right along with Cecil but they both trail off awkwardly. Now that he has the seal—Cecil, he reminds himself, his name is Cecil—in front of him, and has thanked him, Carlos is not really sure what to say. If he was honest with himself, Carlos never really allowed himself to think this far ahead.

But Cecil is ecstatic despite the heavy expectant silence. He is _finally_ talking to Carlos, laughing with Carlos, as a person! He simply cannot let the opportunity slip away, not now. "Do you want to maybe dry off?" he asks, looking down at his own damp clothing and then at Carlos' sand-covered khakis. "There's a diner just up the road, and I haven't had dinner, if you want to... talk?"

Carlos glances down at his clothes, a little damp and sandy now. "Ah, uh. Sure?” That comes out not nearly as confident as it should, and when Cecil's features fall a little he reiterates more firmly. “Sure, yes, that would be good." He gets to his feet and dusts off the legs of his pants before offering a warm calloused hand down to help Cecil to his feet.

"Let me hide my skin really fast? I don't want it to be swept away," Cecil says, letting go reluctantly and stepping back towards the rocks.

"Is that safe?" Carlos asks. Not knowing what else to do with his hands now that Cecil released his own, he shoves both into his pants pockets.

"It should be. I mean, humans rarely come down to this part of the beach, at least not this late at night. Uh. I'm guess you already know that," he babbles. Folding the pelt up quickly, Cecil finds the little dry hole he had it stored in before, high enough from the water's edge that the tide cannot reach it. It is a familiar hiding spot, one that his colony makes use of often if they need to go into town quickly instead of going back to the safe-house to change.

"I just don't want something to happen," he frets, watching Cecil climb back down and join him on the flat sand. Now that the selkie's pelt is off his shoulders, Carlos can see the other man is wearing bright aqua shorts and what looks to be two tank tops, one on top of the other, showing off a lot of tan two-tone skin.

"It's just up this way," Cecil says, pointing to the row of little stores and restaurants along the strip. "The Moonlite All Night Diner?"

Carlos falls into step beside Cecil, matching his stride. "I've eaten there before. They have pretty good coffee, but those types of places usually do."

“But it's so bitter." Cecil wrinkles his nose. "Even if you dump in cream and sugar, it's so strong."

"It's good that way," he insists, smiling. “Do you have a sweet tooth?"

"A little? I like the frozen coffee-shakes at Starbucks. The frappuccinos." He tries not to glance down at Carlos' hand, which he'd take if it wasn’t so forward. Or look over at the bandage wrapped around his upper arm. How bad must the bite be to warrant such measures?

The scientist, oblivious to Cecil's musings, wrinkles his nose. "Those things are so sweet! How can you stand it?"

"They're good! But the Moonlite makes an amazing breakfast and they serve it twenty-four seven. Have you ever had their omelets?" he laughs, skipping a little ahead to where the street lights illuminate the sidewalks. Awash in the bright gold of the streetlamps, they both become far more visible than down on the dark beach. Carlos can see the shock of violet hair that goes through Cecil's long black locks, the earrings, and the glittery silver tennis shoes.

So distracted by this, Carlos fails to answer the question. Cecil blushes when he catches Carlos' eyes tracking over his appearance. "See something you like?"

Carlos' eyes shoot back up to Cecil's face and a light flush spreads on his cheeks. "What?" he squeaks, then coughs to cover it up. "Um, those are some interesting shoes," he says instead, cringing internally. "I mean, they're very... shiny."

"Yeah? I actually did it myself," Cecil says proudly, turning his legs this way and that to show off his footwear. "I bought them from Target and then found a do-it-yourself guide on Pinterest. I even made my cat a sparkly collar the same way!"

"You have a cat?"

Cecil hums an affirmative. “Khoshekh. He's my baby boy. He likes to sleep in the bathroom sink."

"What kind of cat is he?" Carlos asks as they approach the diner.

“Oh, he's the _adorable_ kind! A Cornish Rex. Have you seen them?" Cecil wishes he had a better picture on his cell phone of him but he starts flicking through the pictures in his gallery anyway.

"I'm not really all that familiar with cat breeds..." Cecil's phone is shoved in front of Carlos' vision. The cat on the screen is mottled brown and black and gray, covered in wrinkles and sparse fur. If Carlos didn't know any better, he'd think the poor animal had mange. In the image Khoshekh is curled up oddly in a circular cat bed, head bent around at a weird angle to look up at the camera.

 "Wow, he's... a looker," Carlos says diplomatically.

"He's beautiful," Cecil gushes "Cornish Rexes are like the supermodels of the cat world."  
  
The Moonlite All Night Diner looks like a relic from the fifties, all chrome and aqua blue and magenta pink. A large neon sign over the door spells out the name under a fluorescent moon. Carlos reaches out ahead of them and opens the door for Cecil, a loud clang of a bell announcing their entry.

"Why thank you," Cecil smiles. It's not often someone holds a door for him. Looking around inside, the dining room is mostly empty, so he picks a booth by the corner window and scoots in. "Do you have any pets? I guess you might not really like cats."

Carlos slides in on the other side, the plastic cushion squeaking under his weight. "I don't mind cats, but they don't always care for me. Cats sometimes sense... yeah. And I don't have any pets."

A waitress with violently red hair walks over and hands them each a laminated menu. "Can I get you gentlemen some drinks? We're out of the syrup for the flavored lemonades, sorry."

"Can I get a normal lemonade then?" Cecil is a bit disappointed. He normally asks for a strawberry or raspberry lemonade but, well, there are sugar packets at the table. Not that he wouldn’t have been adding said sugar packets to his strawberry or raspberry lemonade as well, but he can never pass up drinks with fruit in them.

"Coffee, please," Carlos says. Once the woman walks off, Carlos and Cecil both look down at the menus in their hands. There is a painful silence for a minute or two, each struggling to think of something to say to the other.

It’s Cecil that breaks first. "Have you ever—um. I mean. What I mean is, you're so smart and you've done a lot of research here... uh... I mean—" Cecil stammers, suddenly finding that his tongue has turned to lead in his mouth.

Carlos has a little trouble following where Cecil's trying to lead. "Yeah, most of my research has been based in Monterey..."

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is, did you never... suspect?" he gestures to himself. "People like me?"

"Well, different... people like us are so different, even from each other,” Carlos says carefully, gesturing vaguely himself. “They tend to keep to themselves, keep safe from others. I've never specifically met anyone... like us... while I've been here.”

"But aren't we different than what you expect of what you study?" Cecil asks, eyes pleading that he need not go into more detail than that. It is so hard to talk vaguely about this with the threat of a human possibly overhearing.

"There wasn't anything concrete. A scientist relies on facts. I had a lot of data that just didn’t line up, but nothing that I could consider conclusive. But after our encounter, once I had something to point me in the right direction, things started to become a lot clearer."

Cecil tilts his head "I didn't think that others really knew much about us. I mean, we've got our own books but I didn't think that... well. Maybe a scientist wouldn't have any books on cryptozoology and things like that. Isn't that considered a quack thing?"

"A pseudoscience, it involves searching for proof of animal species where their existence has not been proven, animals that would only appear in myth and legend or outside of normal geographic ranges. Which isn't totally out of the realm of possibility considering the two of us sitting at this table. But no, I have many books on mythology, if you could call it that.” He glances around, making sure that their waitress is still out of earshot. “Some of them do make mention of selkies. But to be honest, I thought that most populations had retreated farther north or south towards the poles, or were completely wild and no longer interacted with humanity at all."

"There are some. There's lots in the colder countries and places like Alaska, Iceland and Greenland and along the Scottish and Irish coasts. Places like that with naturally higher populations of wild seals.”

"So I assume there's a colony here in the bay?" Carlos asks, leaning forward with interest. “Is there just the one?”

Cecil makes a very, very unpleasant face. "No. There's another. I don't like the other Voice that much."

"Ah." It is more than obvious that this is a subject that Cecil has no interest in discussing, so Carlos drops it for now. "But you have a colony. You're... the Voice? I'm not sure what that is."

The waitress comes back with their drinks and pulls out a little notebook. "Are you ready to order?" This causes a scramble, as neither of them had really been paying attention to the menus despite staring down at the words on the pages. Cecil looks to Carlos, who nods for Cecil to order first.

"Can I get the ham and cheese omelet? No onions?" He hands over his menu.

"White or wheat toast with that?" She asks, tucking it under her arm and scribbling down his order.

"Wheat, please."

The waitress glances at Carlos. "And you sir?"

"Steak tips and eggs, rare and scrambled," he says, handing her his own menu. "Thank you."

She nods and walks away to fill their orders. Cecil waits until she's back at the counter playing on her cell phone before giving Carlos his attention again. "I'm sorry, what were you asking?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what a 'Voice' is," Carlos repeats.

"Oh." Cecil had been hoping Carlos would forget that bit. They're interrupted again by a group of loud teenagers who all sprawl in a booth on the other side of the diner. "Um." He pitches his voice a little lower. "I watch out for everyone. It used to be, we would tell everyone when it was safe to come on shore and shift, but now I mostly, uh... monitor? Like weather patterns that might make the sea dangerous, tourist activity, areas prime for fishing, just anything really."

"How?" he asks, leaning close to mirror his position.

"I watch."

Carlos frowns, an adorable little expression that creases lines into his smooth forehead, and Cecil can see he's going to press for more details so the selkie cuts him off. "But enough about me. I've never met a scientist before. What do you actually do at the aquarium? I never thought of that as science-y."

"I'm the Assistant Head Aquarist of Marine Mammals," he says. "And head of the Ambrose Rescue and Rehabilitation program. I'm in charge of all the mammals that come through the facility, and all research activities related to the mammal population with MBARI."

"So not just seals?" Cecil asks, genuinely interested. He never knew just what Carlos was doing out there watching his colony from time to time. "But what does that mean? It sounds like a lot of work."

Carlos flashes a smile and launches into a lengthy explanation of his duties at the aquarium—how he makes sure that all the animals rescued receive the best medical care available, ensures that all the animals that enter the rehab program are either released back into the wild or relocated to a permanent home, the various ways in which the research program studies the mammal populations in the bay and the surrounding areas. He speaks quite animatedly about the subject, hands moving as he speaks with excitement about the various seals, sea lions, otters, and occasional whales and dolphins he has to deal with.

"Oh," he stops suddenly, flushing a bit more. "And I'm rambling on about something you probably have no interest in--"

"No no!" Even if he had not understood all the technical jargon Carlos had a tendency to throw around, Cecil had still been wrapped up in the oaky, melodious tones of Carlos' voice. "You're really passionate. Can I ask why its called the Ambrose Rescue program? Is that the name of the person who founded it?"

"Ah, no," he says, messing with the empty straw wrapper on the table. "Ambrose was the name of a seal that came through the aquarium, before the program started. Sort of the inspiration that spurned the creation of the program instead of just making do with what we had."

Cecil smiles at that. "You name them?"

"Of course! Seems a little impersonal, calling them a number or something," he says.

"I thought a scientist would like impersonal." Cecil rips open four packets of sugar from the little container on their table and dumps all of them into his lemonade "On nature shows they all seem so detached."

"Yes, well, on nature shows the observers aren’t supposed to get involved. It would defeat the purpose of showing the harsh realities of the wild," Carlos says, sipping his black coffee. "And even we aren't supposed to get involved with the ones we study, generally. Though sometimes they make the initial contact." He says this with a pointed look at Cecil.

The selkie blushes and stirs his drink a little more vigorously. "I was just curious. You had all that humming equipment and those giant camera lenses."

"I'm sure you've seen a lanyard before," he points out.

"I just wanted the picture!" he says defensively, taking a long draw from his lemonade. "You had lots of photos of me and I didn't have any of you."

"A photo of me?" Carlos asks, looking away. "Not worth the trouble. Besides, that's a horrible picture."

"I doubt it. You're very handsome." The words come blurting out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he knows he must look a little manic but has never been more grateful for the interruption of wait staff. The redheaded waitress sets their plates in front of them, checking to make sure each is satisfied before flitting away to check on the teenagers.

"So I guess you don't get to do any experiments?" Cecil asks, cutting a big bite out of his omelet. "Not that kind of scientist, I guess."

"Not in the traditional sense," he replies, cutting his steak. It is closer to medium well than rare, he is displeased to see. And it is only then that it really registers what Cecil had said before, and he has simply no idea how to handle it, the only thought echoing through his head being that this man across from him thinks he is _handsome_.  
  
“What do you mean?” Cecil asks.

Carlos coughs a little into his hand, gathering his thoughts. "I compile research and look for patterns, and other scientists use my research to plan conservation efforts. I also study the effects of pollution on the ecosystem. Being the research head, I try not to limit myself to one thing. It is a lot easier when you have a whole team under you."

"Have you done experiments, though?" Cecil remembers watching marathons of NOVA at Earl's house and making ice cream in his sophomore science class. "Like in college?"

"Oh yeah, all sorts of things. You have to take a lot of different sciences." He takes a bite of his steak and schools his features to not show his irritation. Chewy and bland. "You work for the radio station, though. How did you get started there?"

"Its kind of a boring story." Cecil mumbles "Is something wrong with your steak? Too underdone?"

"It's fine—" At Cecil's disbelieving look, he relents. "Overcooked, actually. I'm used to it, don't worry about it. The eggs are good." He makes a show of eating a big bite of the eggs, which are not nearly as overcooked.

"If you say so...anyway. I used to do weather reports and community calendar segments on AM at that station. Then my management became interested in an idea of a serial show to bring in more listeners, and said if any of us had any ideas we could feel free to submit them. I wrote up a few scripts and they loved it, so I did my normal show and then the serial twice a month." Cecil pauses to take a few bites "Then Strexcorp bought the station—dunno why—and they decided to move the show to FM and make it into a podcast. Then they hired another voice actor who used to do the numbers and oceanic reports for another station to be the co-writer and voice for a mirror show."

"Sounds like you're gaining success if you were moved to FM. And podcasts are pretty big now, aren't they?"

"Yeah. It's crazy, I never thought radio shows would be a fad that came back but we're even on iTunes now." Cecil looks amazed by his own success. "I even get fanmail."

Carlos grins. "Oh? Like what?"

That question makes Cecil flush a little. He tries to be modest about what the fans send in, since most of the colony really is not all that interested. But Carlos asking is something different entirely. "Mostly stuff about how they're glad to hear that my character is gay. That they can relate to him and stuff about representation."

Cecil can see Carlos' eyes soften a little, which he considers a good sign. "It _is_ important. Lots of people never had someone to look up to, especially the main character of a show." Carlos looks down at his plate and starts cutting again. "So your character is based a lot on you?" he asks carefully.

"He's like me but exaggerated." he laughs "I'm actually not that creative. All my characters are loosely based on real people. Some more loosely based than others," he adds with a smirk.

"I've only been listening to it for a few weeks," Carlos admits. "Managed to stumble on it. But once I heard it I had to check out the rest."

“The rest?” His face goes very, very red. "O-oh, yeah?"

The other man nods, taking a bite of his sub-par steak and trying not to flush himself. Carlos had gone back and listened to the show from the first episode, after catching a few and finding it interesting. And while listening to the enigmatic voice talking about a handsome scientist outsider who just happened to be named Carlos had seemed whimsically serendipitous at the time, Carlos now knows that was hardly a coincidence.

"Have you listened to the mirror show?" Cecil asks, trying to steer the conversation away from the cast. And, if he is honest, hoping that Carlos is a bigger fan of Welcome to Night Vale rather than Welcome to Desert Bluffs.

"It's interesting. A little morbid, but I get the parallels. Yours is a lot more fleshed out," Carlos comments.

"Well, Kevin took over late in the show. His didn't start until I was already well on. And since his show is meant to mirror mine, there isn't quite as much room for world building unless we discuss it beforehand. We have to have double writing sessions and we exchange emails to make sure it mirrors properly."

"I like yours," he says. Cecil lights up, cutting into his omelet happily, and Carlos glances up from beneath his lashes. "So....who are they based on?" he asks, a little smile touching his lips. "Like Old Woman Josie?"

"My mat—er, grandmother." Cecil stumbles a bit to correct himself. He really does not want to get into the hierarchy within his colony right now.

"Your grandmother must be fierce," Carlos chuckles, recalling the various plot lines involving the older woman.

Cecil nods enthusiastically. "She really is. She's lived through a lot. We joke that she's unsinkable."

"What about Intern Dana?" he asks.

"My cousin." Also not entirely true; Dana is not actually related by blood, but they grew up together and he considers her as his family.

"What about John Peters?"

"He's the guy who has that really old fishing boat, the one with the weird corn flag? That thing makes no sense at all. But he's so nice! He gives us some of his surplus catch and he grows his own vegetable garden." Cecil smiles, thinking about the weird old man. "In return, we send over regular dinners that he can freeze and reheat. Since he lives alone."

"That's nice of you," he says, moving his food around on his plate. He doesn't look up at Cecil as he asks. "Anyone else?"

"Steve Carlsberg." it comes out as a growl and when Carlos looks up, he sees that Cecil is not looking at him or his food, but rather at the door over Carlos' shoulder.

"What?" he asks, twisting around to follow his line of sight.

A man with thinning sandy blonde hair and a soft middle is standing at the entryway with a little girl balanced on one hip. The child has one arm in a hot pink cast and the other is holding a bright blue stuffed penguin. They're seated closer to the front of the dining room, but with Steve facing their booth so the two of them are easily spotted. He gives Carlos a wave which Carlos returns, much to Cecil's displeasure.

"You know Steve?" he asks, incredulous.

“Steve does some of the photography for the aquarium. You know, pamphlets, fund raising materials, stuff we send out to donors. How do you know him?”

"He's a wildlife photographer." Cecil grumbles "He gets too up close to us. And he won an award for a photo of a seal being killed."

Carlos is aware of the picture in question—it was one of the reasons the aquarium hired him in the first place. He had been willing to get in for a good shot, but not close enough to interfere with the subject. And though the subject matter was unfortunate, what could he have done?

"He's a terrible person who drives a crappy car,” Cecil says, crossing his arms in front of him.

"He's not that bad," Carlos insists. "How is he a bad person?"

"He lets animals die so he can get his precious shot."

Carlos frowns. "Wildlife photographers aren't supposed to interfere with nature. And neither are scientists."

"You did," Cecil points out. "Your whole rescue program is technically interfering with nature."

"But that's what it's designed to do. Because seals were in danger in the area. But we wouldn't dive into the water in front of a shark. What did you expect him to do? Kill himself?" he asks.

Just then the little girl that had been with Steve comes bounding up to Carlos, golden ringlets bouncing behind her. She can't be any older than two. He's met the child on several occasions, and his face morphs into a warm smile. "Hello, Emily!"

She grins up at him. "Hewo Car-os," she says, holding up her penguin. "LOOK!"

Carlos laughs. "That's a very nice penguin! Where did you get that?"

"Daddy!" she squeals.

Steve ambles over, sighing a little at Emily's exuberance. "Hey Carlos. Sorry, she saw you and desperately needed to say hello." He lifts her up and balances her on his hip again when the penguin starts to drag the diner floor. A glance at Carlos' dinner partner and he gives the scientist a significant look that Carlos pointedly ignores.

"It's fine, really. What happened here?" he asks, nodding to Emily's cast.

"Oh." Steve's face pinches to a frown. "She slipped at dance class. I guess they had waxed the floors the night before and Em's didn't have enough resin on her shoes."

"Dance? Already? But she's still a baby!” To Emily he says, "Still going to be a ballerina?"

Emily gives an exaggerated nod.

"Do you want me to sign your cast?" he asks. In response, she looks up at her dad with a questioning gaze.

"If people sign it, they say that it will get better faster," her father tells her, already getting a sharpie from his pocket, anticipating that his little girl would get lots of signatures.

She puts her arm out and Carlos makes a show of signing it clearly where she can see it. "Do you want Cecil to sign it too?" he asks.

Emily looks over at the new person that she hadn't really noticed. "Hi."

Cecil smiles, leaning up to talk to her better. "Hello. I'm Carlos' friend, Cecil. It's very nice to meet you." Taking the marker from Carlos, he signs his name next to the other man's with a heart over the _i_. He notices that she is in a princess dress and adds in a _get well soon_ _your highness_ at the end. He even does a tiny drawing of a crown next to it.

She smiles at him and Steve doesn't even have to prompt her. "Tank you Cecuul," she says. "Tank you Caros."

"You're welcome, princess," Carlos replies.

Steve laughs at how delighted she is by the drawing. "I'll let you guys get back to your date. Carlos, call me tomorrow? I need to talk business."

"Uh, r-right, sure," Carlos says, eyes widening. "It's, um," but Steve has already walked away carrying Emily, the correction dying on his lips.

"Cute kid." Cecil watches as the waitress brings a heaping bowl of ice cream covered in chocolate sauce over to Emily and Steve's table. "Is she... uh... she looks nothing like him," he comments, the question left unvoiced.

"She takes after her mother. Thank goodness, as he would say," Carlos says, smirking. Steve is already prematurely balding, a little bit of a belly on him, and although Carlos would deny looking, he has to admit the man has no ass at all. "At least in the looks department. More like her dad when it comes to temperament."

Cecil scowls a little "She's such a sweet child. No way she gets that from someone like Steve."

“You don't even know him," Carlos says, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He does not want to argue with Cecil about it, but he is not sure how he feels about Cecil's immediate dislike of one of his colleagues.

The waitress brings their check over and Carlos pulls out his card, handing it back to her without giving Cecil a chance to pay.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"You paid."

"I did," Carlos says, nodding.

"I could pay."

"I was just trying to be polite.” A worried look crosses his features. Did he offend Cecil? "I'm sorry. Do you want me to—?"

"I'll leave the tip. She deserves it after taking the orders from those rowdy kids." Cecil pulls out his wallet and gets out a few folded bills.

Walking past Steve's booth on their way out gets an excited wave from Emily and a raised eyebrow and a smirk from Steve aimed at Carlos, which he once again ignores. This isn't a date. Not a date, at all. It can't be a date, they just met and they barely know each other, and it can't be a date if they just met.

 _People go on blind dates all the time_ , his treacherous brain supplies.

No. Not a date.

_He talks about you on his show._

Not. A. Date.

Cecil looks around "Did you drive here?"

"Ah, no, I walked down from my house," Carlos replies, hands shoved in his pockets again. "Thought I'd go for a dip and a run to clear my head, and... well. You happened," he laughs breathlessly, looking down.

"Oh. I walked too. You know. After. Swimming." Cecil wants to kick himself. Why is this so awkward? Why is he so awkward?

"I'll walk with you back down to the beach for your pelt," Carlos offers, strolling along with him.

"You're so lucky to be able to just shift whenever." Cecil says once they're on the beach.

Carlos smiles, delighting at the novel feeling of being able to talk about this freely with someone else. It has been a long time. “It has its ups and downs. Though I'm sure it doesn't do you much good inland, anyway."

"Yeah. We're getting to the point where we spent most of our time in this shape. Some people are worried that we're going to end up like the merpeople, what with how humans treat the ocean as a dumping ground and the way they flock to the coasts." It's a heavy statement, and they fall silent as it hangs between them. Especially when Carlos comes to a stop. Cecil turns to face him, frowning a little, but Carlos puts a hand on Cecil's upper arm.

"Not here," he says, as serious as Cecil has ever heard him. "Not in Monterey. I know I can't work miracles, but as long as I can help, things will be safe in these waters for you and your kind."

Emotion wells up in Cecil like the tide. He could kiss this man, right here and now. He doesn't, but he could. "Thank you." he says with all sincerity.

Carlos shakes his head. No thanks is necessary, after all.

Cecil clears his throat, looking down at his shoes. Still glittery, especially in comparison to Carlos' plain brown work shoes. His own dig into the sand slightly. "Do... um. Do you maybe want to get coffee some time?"

The seriousness in the air breaks in favor of a rush of nervous excitement, and Carlos drops his arm in surprise. "Coffee?"

"If you want!" Cecil backpedals, voice tripping higher. "I mean you ordered coffee and you said you like it but if you want something else—I mean it doesn't need to be coffee, it could be tea or lemonade or, something else, and—it doesn't need to be like, SOON if you're busy, I'm sure you're super busy, doing important science—"

Cecil's babbling comes to a sudden halt when Carlos blurts, "I'm free the day after tomorrow.” The lycan turns red. "For coffee."

"That would be neat!" Cecil says, louder than he means to but too giddy to care. "Um. Maybe we could meet at Viva la Bean?"

"The one down on 8th? Or the one up near the bowling alley?"

"By the bowling alley. What time works for you?" Cecil is trying to not mess with his braid but is failing horribly, fingers twisting in the ends anxiously.

"I could be there by four. If that's okay? Here." Carlos pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and opens it to thumb through his business cards. Pulling out one from the back of the little stack—the ones near the front are a little stained from salt water—he hands it over to Cecil. "This one has my cell on it, if you need to, uh, change plans or cancel or anything..."

"Thank you." Cecil takes it and places it very carefully in his own wallet. "I guess...I guess I better get going. The tide's coming in."

Carlos nods, looking out at the water then back at Cecil. "I'm glad I finally got to meet you," he laughs, smiling wide and innocent and happy at him. It's the same smile that Cecil fell in love with, at least the one he always imagined when writing that first episode of Welcome to Night Vale.

"Me too. Have a good night, Carlos." He reaches out and squeezes Carlos' hand for just a moment before turning and scampering up the rocks to find his pelt. When Cecil turns back with it draped in his arms, there's a large black wolf sitting on the sand watching him with its yellow eyes. But now his posture is relaxed and his giant tail wags behind him.

Cecil waves and slides down the rocks so he can shift on the soft sand by the water. A wave goodbye with his flipper, and the seal disappears beneath the water.

It does not occur to Carlos until he is back in his car and driving home that he still doesn't know if that was a date. Or if coffee in two days is a date. At a red light, he lays his head down on his steering wheel and takes a moment to let out a whine that no one can hear but himself.


	4. 3 - It's totally not a date, you guys

Cecil gets back to the safe-house beach and shifts before he's even out of the water, laughing and splashing giddily in the water like a schoolboy. It happened! It _finally_ happened. He met the handsome scientist who has sweetly plagued his thoughts for years! So maybe things did not go quite as he had planned; no, it was even better, because beautiful, talented, accepting Carlos is a shifter just like him!

As he makes his way up to the house, he catches sight of Vithya lounging on the back patio in one of the comfy cream fold-out chairs, a stapled bundle of papers from work in her lap. He makes a halfhearted attempt to control his facial expression, but this smile simply cannot be contained. "What are you grinning about?" she asks once she notices him walking up the stairs.

"I have a _date!_ " he chirps happily, then stops himself. _Don't get ahead of yourself, Cecil._ “Well, maybe not a date.” He wrings out his braid before getting up onto the patio and lays his pelt out on a lawn chair to drip dry.

"A date but not a date?" she asks, the topic interesting enough that she sets her papers aside in favor of being distracted. "With who? I thought you were laying off meeting people from the other colonies for a while. The only person you ever seem interested—OH MY GODS!" She sits up, now completely focused. "YOU _DIDN'T?!_ "

Cecil smirks a little, feeling victorious. " _You_ were the one who texted me that he was heading to the beach."

"I thought you were just going to just do a little sight-seeing!" she hisses. Gathering up her papers, excited, Vithya heads for the doors. "This is not a conversation for the patio. I'll meet you on the roof when you're dry!"

He cannot argue with that assessment; there are far too many selkies (all of them) that are far too nosy for their own good, and this is something he wants to keep between himself and Vithya, at least for the moment. She is one of his closest companions, even if she is a brat at times. Plus, she is the only selkie in their ranks that secured a position at MBARI, right under Carlos, so he could hardly keep his interest in the other man a secret from her.

Cecil tosses his pelt over the shower door in one of the shared bathrooms and changes into dry pajama pants and a soft City of Monterey Police Department t-shirt. There's enough of those floating around the house that he is not even sure whose it is. The window in Vithya's room is still open from where Vithya climbed out, and he climbs up onto the sill carefully before hoisting himself up onto the roof. The red terracotta shingles are sturdy enough, and he remembers to skip the sixth one that gives shakily on his way across to a little flat spot where Vithya is already waiting. She is sitting in her own pajama pants and a tank top, her mane of dark brown and white curls pulled back in a pompom on top of her head. It is possible that the bottle in her hands might be green tea, but he can never tell what weird things she is trying on a given day.

"So? What happened? You really approached him?" Vithya asks as soon as he's settled.

"If I tell you, you need to PROMISE not to say ANYTHING, not even to Dana," Cecil says, giving her a hard look.

She nods, face falling more serious. "Of course."

"Well, I was going to just...I don't know, I had a plan, and then he came walking down the beach and his hair was all disheveled, and his skin was all glowing under the moonlight, and his shirt was kind of tight..."

She grimaces and shakes her head, waving her free hand dismissively. "Ceec, focus! He's my boss! I don't want to hear that!"

"Sorry! Anyway. Normally he just takes his shoes off and walks in the water. Sometimes he talks to the water like he was hoping I was listening." He blushes at that, though Vithya's known that a while. He only came back and blathered about it for over an hour the first time it happened. "But this time—oh, Vithya, I couldn't believe it—but he _shifted._ ”

Vithya stares at him blankly for a moment, then her eyes widen. "You mean...like, _shifted_ shifted? Carlos?" She frowns. "But, we would be able to tell if he was a selkie!"

"Well that's because he's not a selkie."

"What then?" she asks.

"A lycan."

Her hands fly to her face. She makes a loud noise muffled by her fingers, then pulls them away to loudly hiss, "ARE YOU SERIOUS??!"

Cecil nods, attention cut between looking down at the yard below to check that there is no one around and trying to quiet her. "I wouldn't joke about that."

"Carlos RAMIREZ?!?"

"Yes! Will you be quiet, do you want everyone to come out here?!"

"Sorry! But you can't expect me not to react to that!” At a much quieter volume, she says, “But lycan are supposed to be super dangerous! Did he growl at you? Try to bite you?”  
  
“No! No, he's not like that!” Cecil blurts, just as loud as she had been and now it is Vithya's turn to try and keep him quiet. Annoyed, he rubs at his temple and sighs to gather himself. “No, he was very nice. I...actually, I'm the one that scared him. He didn't know I was there, and—those details don't matter.” He would rather not get into him falling on his ass in a tide pool. “But I revealed myself, and he didn't run off or anything, and he actually let me pet him!”

She cannot help the soft little smile at that, even if she is having trouble imagining this at all. "Aw. That's kind of sweet."

“And he knows I saved him,” Cecil says with a blush, looking down at his hands. It makes him a little uncomfortable thinking of it in those terms.

“What did he say?”

"He thanked me, and then we talked, and then we went to the Moonlite and talked some more and—” he lets out a breathy little noise and covers his face, the excitement of the moment hitting him full-on.

She gives Cecil a less-than-light elbow to the arm. "I _told_ you he would like you if you just introduced yourself properly! So what is this about a date-not-date?”

“I don't know,” he says, shoulders slumping and hands falling to his lap again. “It's just coffee, so that's probably not a date, right? He didn't call it a date.” He wishes that had been clearer.

“But are you okay with the whole wolf thing?"

Cecil nods. "I think so. I mean...he's a really cute wolf, too."

"When are you going to tell Josie?" she asks. "This is...kind of a different situation. I mean...we've never had anyone date another type of shape shifter. Messing around with a human or two, sure, but a wolf is going to have his own culture and stuff. And you know all the things they say about lycans."

 “It wasn't—this isn't a date.” Shaking his head, Cecil adds, “And you've met Carlos, you know there can't be much to those rumors. He's not vicious, or aggressive. You said he's one of the nicest guys at the aquarium. And Josie is mostly worried we're going to have pups with humans. It's not like me and Carlos could—” Cecil chokes off the word _breed._ “We're getting way ahead of ourselves, don't you think?”

"Yeah, but you know how it goes. Half the colony has a fit if any of us even flirt with someone outside our ranks." Vithya rolls her eyes with her words. She and Cecil are often on the receiving end of said fits. "Which is stupid. I mean if we didn't flirt or have fun with other colonies we'd all be inbred."

Cecil huffs in agreement and lays back on his elbows. "I don't know. There's no sense in getting Josie and everyone else all riled up when I'm just having a friendly cup of coffee. If things change, I'll talk to her. He might not even be interested in someone like me.”

Vithya lets out a scoff at that. "Please," she mutters, thinking about the years Cecil's spent wishing for this chance and just how compatible she thinks they are. She looks at him a moment. "You got Carlos Ramirez to agree to a date—don't give me that look, it will be a date by the end of the day, if you have your way.”  
  
He flushes but says nothing.  
  
“That's no small feat, Cecil. I mean..." she looks thoughtful a moment, "I don't think I've heard of him going on a date with anyone since I started working there."

Cecil arches a brow. "Like you're all so savvy about his personal life!"

"We talk! The researchers are about as gossipy as the colony!" she laughs. "It's kind of a thing, like, when the other team members were giving me the rounds, it's something they mentioned. _Don't talk to Dr. Ramirez about his social life, he doesn't have one._ I mean, maybe he's out having one-night stands, but I doubt it. He doesn't seem like the type. He's certainly never brought anyone around work."

"He's attractive enough. And he _must_ date. I mean he needs to...you know," he blushes. "Wolves _do_ go into season."

"That doesn't mean he follows through!" She gives him a significant look. "I heard wolves mate for _life_ , Cecil!"

"We also heard that they shift on full moons but he shifted just fine with tonight's waxing moon."

"Still, make sure you aren't getting yourself wolf-married before the end of the date," she says, snickering.

Cecil shoves her. "I don't put out on the first date!"

"Yeah, right," she says, smirking and shoving back.

"I DON'T." Cecil sticks his tongue out at her.

"We'll see," she says. "I mean, your other dates haven't been 'Carlos, with his beautiful brown skin and his perfect hair and his tight round--'"

"HEY!"

She cackles. "Which I have seen a lot better than YOU have!"

Cecil crosses his arms haughtily. "No you haven't. They have separate locker rooms."

"Yeah but I'm up close on the boat," she says. "And when he's bending over in the seal pens."

His eyes widen dramatically and he squeals, "Don't ogle his ass!"

"I might not be as interested in the opposite sex, but I can appreciate the aesthetic," she replies, nose in the air and a satisfied smile on her face.

"You don't see me ogling girls' chests," Cecil grouses and flicks her. "So don't stare at my date's ass."

“Oh, so it's a date now?”

“Vithya! You know what I mean!”

After her laughter dies down, and she asks, "Does he know about the rest of us?"

"He knows that the colony exists but no specifics.” Cecil twists his braid around his hand. “But I think this means you can call off trying to get into his files.”  
  
“It's what Josie and Pam want me to do,” Vithya argues.  
  
“But it isn't necessary.” Cecil frowns down at the yard below them. “He knows now. He wouldn't let anything bad happen.”  
  
“You don't know that! You've only had one conversation with him. And he's not the only person with access to those files. Someone else could figure it out.”

Cecil feels the urge to protect Carlos flare up inside him, and he lashes out against his better judgment. “You're not even giving him a chance! Maybe if you'd let me talk to him about it—“  
  
“It's taken you years just to get the courage to talk to him once, we can't wait another five years for you to bring up something important just because you don't want to ruin your chances of jumping in the sack—“  
  
“You're out of line!” he hisses, turning angrily toward her. A prickly silence falls over them, and he can see her backtracking over the conversation, regret creeping into her expression.  
  
“Sorry,” she finally says, softly. “I'm sorry, you're right. I know that he means more to you than that.”

His arms cross in front of him as he hunches over a little, nodding and looking down again. Vithya puts an arm around him and they sit, letting the tension run out of them again. Once he knows his voice is under control, he says, “I know that if I ask, he would listen.”

Vithya sighs. “I want to believe you, but he isn't one of us.” She taps her fingers along his shoulder. “I don't have access, anyway. You have to be a full team member. You have time, but I can't stop trying. Pam said it's really important. And the other team members could still figure things out; we just can't risk it.”  
  
“Just don't get caught doing something stupid,” Cecil says. “Give me time.”

It is not a promise Vithya can make, but she nods noncommittally. “Did you find out anything else about him? Did you find out if there are more lycans here?”

Cecil shakes his head. “Apparently he doesn't have a pack in Monterey.”

"That's weird, right?"

"I'm not sure. I don't actually know a lot about wolves." Cecil pulls out his phone and goes to Wikipedia.

“I don't think you're going to find a lot of useful information on there about lycan,” Vithya points out, scooting closer to look over his shoulder. "What, is he a 'lone wolf?' Kind of cliche, right?"

Cecil shrugs, skimming over the article. "It says that wolves are related in their packs and they're very territorial." He glances at her. "Is he weird about his workspace or his office?"

"His office...if it isn't a member of his team. He doesn't like when other people are in there without his permission, and hates when interns do it." That she knows from experience. She worries at her thumb nail. "Do you think he thinks of the mammal team as his pack?"

"I don't know. Would he be the alpha of that group?" He scrolls through the page, frown deepening. "Does that make me his bitch?"

"Ceec, don't..." she sighs, putting a hand over his screen. "You said the moon thing wasn't true. Don't start filling your head with other things that aren't true. There's plenty of things seals do that we don't."

Cecil nods and puts the phone away. He thinks that is enough on this subject for now. "You ought to put on a bra, that shirt is too thin," he jabs, making a face at her. He has to scramble away when she shrieks at him and takes a swipe, the two bickering all the way back inside.

* * *

 

Two days later at the aquarium, Carlos is on his way from the rehab pens to the front office. He needs to let Al know that one of their X-ray machines is not working—again—and it would be nice if he actually got hold of the company for repairs instead of lazing around for two weeks like last time. His irritated stalk is interrupted by a voice calling out, "Ah! Carlos! Just who I was looking for."

“Hey Lindsey,” he says, slowing down his stride. Dr. Talbot falls in pace with him, her thin legs swishing her baggier khaki pants. "What's up?" he asks.

"Did you contact that photographer friend of yours for me? Mr. Carlsberg?”

Carlos winces. “We've been playing phone tag. I'll call again as soon as I get back to my office.”  
  
“Please do! The new Tentacles cephalopod exhibit is opening and we want to get it photographed for the website. Time's running out.”  
  
“I will, I promise. Why haven't I heard from Hilda about this? You're not thinking of moving in on invertebrates, are you?” he teases.

“Not a chance!” she laughs high and clear, clapping him on the shoulder. It sends him stumbling forward slightly at the unexpected force. For such a small woman she can really pack a punch. “I could never leave my shark babies. But Hilda is swamped, so I offered to look for someone. Anyway, I've got to go. I've got a training session this afternoon.”

He waves her off. “I've got an exam I'm giving this morning, myself. I'll email you.”

Hounding on Al in his office takes a good thirty minutes, but it ends up being worth the effort because by the end of it his boss is picking up the phone to call the repair company. Carlos gets back to his own office with minimal fuss. Checking the time, he has just enough time to give Steve a call.

"Hey-lo?" Steve answers on the fourth ring. There is heavy static interference, and loud buffering noises in the background. It has the familiar sound of heavy wind.

"Hey Steve, it's Carlos," he says, voice raising a little in case Steve can't hear him. "Sounds like you're on the water. You busy?"

"Nah. I was trying to get a shot of a raft of sea lions but the big bull male spotted me and got pissed. Thought it was time I got out of there."

"Don't get yourself in trouble, I don't want to have to call the coast guard for you," Carlos teases.

"I'm fine! Safety first, right?" he laughs. Carlos opens his mouth but Steve barrels on before he can talk. "I'm glad you called. I wanted to talk to you about an upcoming article that my colleague LeAnn is writing about MBARI. I'd like to get some shots of you all doing fieldwork."

"Us?" he asks, surprised. "I'm sure we're not nearly as interesting as the animals."

"I'll have to double check about the exact topic of the article, but it's something to do with the people behind the conservation efforts in the Bay. Nothing negative. I need to get permission from the heads of the research divisions before I can publish any images.”

"Sure, I don't have a problem with it. Just let us know when you'd want to drop by so we're not doing anything boring that day.”  
  
“Awesome. LeAnn might want to come get a few quotes, too. I'll give her your number.”  
  
“Also, I have some other work to throw your way if you're interested. We're starting a new exhibit around cepholopods that needs some imagery."

"Yeah?" Carlos can hear a loud rustling then, friction against the speaker on Steve's end of the phone, and then a lot of sea lions barking. "OH STOP, I'M LEAVING!" he shouts. It makes Carlos grin; he can just imagine Steve on the Orca, the tan and white boat that he never quite learned how to clean properly judging by the handful of barnacles that always seem to be clinging to its hull, waving his camera at the seal lions like a large lumpy peanut gallery. There's more rustling and movement, then Steve speaking into the phone again. “What kind of images?”

"I'm not sure what all Lindsey wants—some of the octopus, some of the cuttlefish. I'll email you her number if you don't have it."

"I actually don't. I dropped my wallet in the water and her card wasn't waterproof like yours."

"Be prepared, as the boy scouts say. It is the boy scouts, isn't it?" Carlos asks, suddenly uncertain. He's never really picked up on some of the sayings that are associated with American things like that.  
  
"Yeah, you're good," he laughs. "I shouldn't have had it in my wallet at all, but I didn't expect to fall in the water.”

Carlos starts typing out a quick email to Steve with the pertinent information about the Tentacles exhibit. "How's Em?" he asks, now that the business is taken care of.

"She's good. On pain medicine for her arm. I was going to bring her along today since she likes the sea lions but she was cranky and I had to get a sitter. And heaven help me if I got her cast wet."

“She wouldn't have enjoyed it then, even if you'd taken her," Carlos says, familiar with Steve's constant worry over Emily. It is something he can never hide from his voice. "This way she can be warm in her room with her toys. Probably sleeping half the day away."

"Yeah. I might swing by the aquarium actually. She's been eying that new pink otter plush."

"Careful or one day you'll have the whole gift shop in her room,” he warns with a chuckle.

"Do you guys have any octopus plushies?" Steve has tried to instill in his daughter a love of all animals—not just the fuzzy ones.

"Oh I'm sure. They try to keep things well stocked and varied. I'm glad I'm not involved in purchasing for the gift shop. And with the new exhibit they'll have a slew of new stuff."

There's a lull in conversation and Carlos thinks about wrapping this up, but then he hears Steve clear his throat. His voice is a little sly when he speaks. "So...who was that man with you last night?"

Carlos' mind stalls for a moment, and the only thing that comes out is a heavy, "Oh," that buys him all but two seconds, and is probably more telling than he'd like. "Cecil. Cecil Palmer, he-he works for the radio station. In town. One of the hosts."

"Uh huh. Gonna do a science segment?" Steve sounds far too amused for Carlos' liking.

"I—he didn't bring it up," he says, trying for calm but probably sounding like someone caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

"He's cute. Are you gonna see him again?"

Carlos flushes. "It wasn't what it looked like," he insists.

"What was it, then?" Steve has his phone cradled on his shoulder as he heads back to the docks, and the wind may be loud as it whips past the boat, but he can hear Carlos' spluttering loud and clear.

"We were just talking!" Carlos says, feeling oddly defensive. But why? He has no reason to be. Right?

"Just talking?" he chuckles. "You sure about that?”

“It was strictly professional.”

“And you paid for both of you?" 

Carlos is silent for a moment before saying, “You noticed that?” Steve hums a reply. "I hardly know him."

"That is usually why people date, you know. To get to know each other, in a romantic way?"

"It wasn't a date!" he says firmly. Then, voice wavering and lower, "I...don't think."

"What did the other gentleman think? Cecil." Steve sounds concerned now. "You should clear that up so you don't end up stringing him along."

That brings Carlos up short. “What? I don't want—I mean, its not that I don't want—surely he doesn't think that was a date, right? I mean, we've just met! People don't just-just meet and then have a date simultaneously, right? People make plans and it isn't some cheap diner food, right? And to think that I had that sort of intent is just-just-just ludicrous, and it was his idea to have dinner just to talk, I didn't—and I don't date, Steve, I just, do you realize how long it's been since I've been on a date? I wouldn't even know how to begin and—"

"Well, maybe you should get that figured out before you see him again. It was obvious that he was completely enamored by you."

“It was?” Carlos squeaks, gripping the phone with both hands.

“I still can't believe I've dated more recently than you,” Steve says, somewhere between shocked and dismayed with Carlos' track record. Then his voice becomes serious. “Like I said, you don't want to string him along and break his heart because you have different intentions and you aren't clear with him.”

Carlos is quiet a moment. "So what if...what if he wants it to be a date?"

"Then you should take the time to think about how you feel about it. If you want to get to know him as a future boyfriend or partner or if you just want to get to know him as a friend."

 _I already know and that's terrifying_ is what he wants to say, but instead he answers, "Thanks, Steve. I'll think about that."

"Don't stress to hard about it, man. You've got to learn to loosen up. Anyway, it's been a few hours and I need to get back to Emily. Take it easy, Carlos."

"You too," he replies, hanging up when the other man does. Carlos lays his cell phone on the table and stares at it a moment. He wishes he would have gotten Cecil's number the other night. Now that the question has been posed by someone other than his own treacherous mind, he wants to get to the bottom of it. The not-knowing has always been Carlos' downfall. He could try to Google it. Does he even have a cell phone? The radio station would have a contact number, right? Would that be way too creepy?

A glance at the clock shows that he really does not have time to be contemplating this right now. He has an employee to find.

* * *

 

Vithya glides the probe for the ultrasound machine slowly across the belly of the pregnant seal, the animal in question breathing deeply in light sedation. Across the animal's bulk Bethanie monitors the images being transmitted on a mobile screen, humming to herself. As one of the main caretakers for the rehab center and Vithya's immediate supervisor, working with her always makes Vithya a little nervous. She's hard to read, especially since good or bad news is almost always met with the same noncommital hum.

Distracted by the task at hand and covered by the din of echoing noises that always pervades the main rehabilitation room, Vithya does not hear the main doors swish open, nor does she hear the approach of worn sneakers on concrete that pauses at a few other pens before stopping at their own. Which is why Vithya startles at the sound of Dr. Ramirez' voice above their heads asking, “How's it going?”

If either he or Bethanie notice her jump, neither acknowledge it. “Going well! Miss Miller has been taking the lead on this one,” she says with much more friendly enthusiasm than she's shown all morning. Vithya's skin prickles with nerves at suddenly being under observation from her boss. “It looks like this lady's pretty far along. Unusual for the season but she might have delayed the embryo's implantation.”

"Yeah?" Carlos steps into the pen and squats down next to them, taking a look at the screen in Bethanie's hands. "She's carrying a big one, too. Might be a hard birth for her. Let's get her moved to an isolated pen away from the main population; I want her to have some quiet before the birth to keep her calm." He pets the head of the sleeping seal as he speaks, rubbing his thumb across her forehead affectionately.

“Yes, sir,” Bethanie replies. Vithya nods at Carlos' prompting and moves to put the equipment away while Bethanie calls for some 'strapping young lads' to help move the heavy animal. She keeps sneaking glances at Carlos, trying to picture him as a wolf, but he doesn't do anything noticeable. And why should he? He looks completely normal right now, just like she looks fairly normal in her human form. Her vitiligo might be more noticeable than a lot of other selkies, other than Cecil—humans often ask if they're siblings, assuming that it runs in their family, which if she's fair she could say it does—but it isn't so completely rare in humans either. Do lycan have physical characteristics in their human forms that make them more noticeable?

She has to pay attention as she's helping to get the seal loaded onto a harness, and when she turns back Carlos and Bethanie are speaking quietly together. From the way Carlos glances at her, she's pretty sure it's about her.

Her suspicions are confirmed moments later. "Miller," Carlos calls, voice sharp. He motions for her to follow him.

Vithya walks briskly just behind him as they make their way out of the main rehab area, and she takes the opportunity to take another look now that he isn't looking at her. His hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. Are his ears a little pointed? She never noticed before, but are they really or is she just reading into it now? She's so distracted that when he stops in one of the hallways leading toward the offices she bumps right into his back. "Ow! Oh gods, sorry sir!"

"It's fine. Are you alright?" Chuckling, Carlos steadies her with a broad hand on her arm that is pulled back politely when she nods. "Bethanie has told me you're making a lot of progress with the pinnipeds. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes sir," she says, nodding again more eagerly. “I'm hoping to, uh, specialize in pinnipeds and their care.”

“You don't have aspirations for any of the other departments?” he asks, curious.

“No, I think the mammals are where I'm needed most,” she replies. It certainly helps that she can understand them.

Carlos nods. "You've only been working here a little over two years, and interned only one. I've been pleased with how quickly you've picked up new duties." He holds up the clipboard that she had not really noticed he was holding, so focused on his features as she was. As he flips through the papers clipped on it, she can recognize some of them as evaluation papers. _Her evaluation_ papers, from previous examinations and reviews with Bethanie and her previous supervisor. "In fact, you've completed almost everything I need to offer you a position on my research team."

Vithya's jaw drops, feeling tingles of excitement and trepidation dance through her muscles. "What?"

He grins broadly, teeth white and shining against his dark skin—particularly his more pointed canines. Something she is too caught off-guard to process at the moment. "The only thing left is your final evaluation, by me. So. If you're interested, meet me on the docks in twenty minutes in your wetsuit, Miss Miller."

"Now?! I mean, yes, yes sir!" She moves to run to the locker room and then pauses, turning back. "Am I dismissed, sir?"

"This isn't the military," Carlos says, shaking his head in amusement. "I'll see you down there."

She races to the locker room, skidding a bit on the slippery floor in her haste. She changes quickly, all the while trying to process this sudden turn of events. This is so out of the blue! She had asked Dr. Ramirez the process of becoming a full-time research team member, but that had been met with a mysterious half-answer that had not made much sense at the time. So of course she had posed the same question to every one of his team members, who were equally taciturn about the whole thing. What had been most infuriating was the little smirk that had passed between Miranda, James and Terry when she had asked them, like they were in on some great secret.

Come to find out, whatever test to get onto the mammal research team is a well guarded secret, even by those that have gone through it. “It's a source of pride, to be able to pass the test,” Miranda had explained when Vithya gave a truly epic bitch-face at their laughing explanation. “It's a little bit different for everyone, depending on their expertise. When I took it—“  
  
“Miranda, shh!” Terry had said then, making a cutting motion over his throat, and she had nodded, miming buttoning her lips shut with another enigmatic smile.

She guesses she is about to find out.

Within ten minutes she is in her wetsuit and standing at the docks with goggles and flippers in hand. It is another five minutes before Carlos comes out at a much less hurried pace, wearing his own wetsuit and carrying his gear. "We're going to take the smaller boat," he says as he approaches, motioning toward one of the smaller craft meant for two to four people. "Let me just get a few things and I'll be right with you. If you could get the boat ready for us?"

"Yes sir!" She hops to it. It takes her a few minutes to orient herself, less familiar with the smaller boat than the ones she usually takes with bigger groups, but she manages to get the anchor up and stowed, the boat ready by the time he returns. Carlos is carrying two medical kits like the ones all the mammal research team carry—a black water-resistant duffel with the MBARI logo on the front pocket.

Once Carlos gets up on the boat and they get cast off, he turns to look at her from behind the controls. "Are you nervous?"

"No. Yes. A little." Vithya knows she should be concentrating on what's at hand, but she can't stop thinking about what Cecil said. She wishes he'd smile or something so she could get a good look at his teeth. His nails are short and clean—which makes sense, claws are not well suited for animal care, but for some reason her mind always formed the idea that lycan would have ragged nails, or maybe abnormally sharp ones, or if she is honest about the stories from her childhood they would be blood-splattered and—pointless. His are just normal human hands. She cannot see any canine-like traits at all, nothing that sticks out as obvious.

"You keep looking at me funny. Is there something on my face?" he asks after a few minutes, then runs his tongue over his teeth. "Something in my teeth?"

"No, no, no! I just, uh...did you get a haircut?" Vithya asks, mentally kicks herself.

He puts a hand to his hair, which already has a few errant locks falling free even though he just pulled it back. "Uh...no?" He shakes his head and it sort of curls every which direction. It really is awfully thick.

"O-oh. You just look different today for some reason?" She fiddles with one of their underwater cameras, hoping he'll drop it.

Carlos grins at that, looking out over the water. "It's just a good day," he replies.

She glances over the side of the boat, supposing that depends on your perspective. "What does this... exam involve?"

"It's not really an exam in the traditional sense," Carlos says, steering the boat out further into the bay away from the more familiar areas where a lot of her dives take place. "Not like your written work or what we have you do back on land."

"Then what is it? Sir."

Carlos smirks. "Call it a stress test."

Then he turns and asks her to prepare an injection of one of the drugs from the kit, the dosage appropriate for a three hundred pound harbor seal. His voice is relatively calm, but there is an underlying note of urgency in it. She's heard him speak like that when they've pulled an animal onto the boat that is hovering on the edge of death, and just hearing the order directed at her in just that way makes her mind skip for a moment before she fumbles into the back.

 _There's no dosage chart._ The realization hits her after digging through the bag for the familiar laminated booklet. No quick reminder, no cheat sheet, something she knows that all the other mammal team members keep in their bag, just in case. Vithya scrambles to remember the math needed to determine the right dosage for this particular drug, and hoping she is correct, opens a syringe packet. The boat rocks and she takes the two seconds to steady her hands and breathing before extracting the clear liquid from its bottle.

Vithya expects some sort of praise, or any response at all once her task is completed, but Carlos does not even look over at her. Somehow he knows she finishes, because no sooner has she placed a protective stopper on the end of the needle then Carlos begins asking her seemingly random questions, in no particular order. Some of them are about pinniped behaviors, others about boat safety. He asks her to walk him through certain procedures in the rehab facility. He even throws in medical scenarios, and asks what she would have to do in the given situation. All through the questions he has her draw syringes, prepare bandages, thread a needle for stitches, every command in that same hurried tone that makes her anxious that something more important is on the line.

At one point, Carlos gestures down to the kit on the deck in front of her. “Tell me what you think is missing from there, if you had to make one yourself.”

She looks down into the now-unorganized bag of medical supplies and gear. "Well, for starters, there isn't a dosage chart,” she says wryly. He chuckles at that, but otherwise says nothing, an obvious indication for her to continue. “There's not a lot of sedative. This amount wouldn't put a full grown animal completely to sleep." She frowns, thinking quickly. _What's missing? There has to be something, right?_

"Anything else?" he asks, a curious lilt to his voice.

"Um..." She's sweating under her wetsuit from the sun and nerves. "There isn't anything here to tag an injured animal. Permanently or otherwise. I would have at least brought a clip tag so we could follow it if we aren't going to sedate it and bring it in?"

"Very good," Carlos says, nodding, now back to his normal calm demeanor. Sometime during all of the questions and tasks he had brought the boat to a stop somewhere in the open nothingness of the ocean, and has been leaning against the rail watching her work. Levering himself up, he says, "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get in the water."

Vithya allows herself to relax. "Yes sir." She pulls her flippers on. "Is this a free dive, sir?"

All the tension comes rushing back as Carlos tilts his head. "Ah ah, not so fast. The exam isn't over yet. I'd like you to take this," he says, handing her a stoppered syringe. She looks at the liquid inside dubiously. It's full of something bright pink, certainly not any sort of medicine she has seen, and definitely nothing in the kit.

"Okay....?” she drawls, confused but clipping it to her belt securely.

Carlos chuckles at her tone, walking back toward the front of the boat. Throughout the ride a tarp had flapped annoyingly in her peripherals over what she assumed was some equipment in the front of the boat. Now, he unceremoniously yanks it off to reveal a comically crafted foam seal, painted a dull gray complete with googly eyes.  Along the right side the dummy seal has a long jagged gash, not dissimilar to the glancing wounds they often see animals have that have been attacked by sharks. It is chucked into the water where its weighted insides cause it to float just below the surface, and a tether leads from a connection on its nose back up to the boat.

"What on earth is that?" she asks flatly.

"That is your patient, Miss Miller!" Carlos says, clearly excited. "Now, I am going to have the seal—let's call him Johnny—attached to me via this line," and he holds up the tether for her to see as if it is not obvious. "You see, Johnny is injured, and in need of stitches. So what you're going to do is inject him with the sedative," and he points to the pink syringe, "Intramuscular in the flank, if you please, and then stitch up the slice on his side. That is, if you can."

"If...if I can?" she looks completely lost. This sounds simple enough. It's just a dummy seal, after all.

"Yes, you see, Johnny can be temperamental." He waves the tether. "Might be prone to sudden movements. As most seals are." He grins when her frown turns irritated in understanding. "You have to be able to adapt to less than ideal situations. Rarely do things go as textbook as they want you to think back on land." At her nod, Carlos pulls his goggles on and drops into the water, swimming a little ways away from the boat, tugging her patient along behind him.

Vithya automatically clears the splash deck so she can create a sterile environment for when she hauls the dummy up. After one last check of her gear, she falls into the water just as Carlos did. She is not sure if she is excited or annoyed—it seems like a useless test, considering it is a dummy seal. What good is this going to do?

Still, she needs to take this seriously if she wants a spot on the team. She approaches the dummy slowly, like she would do for an actual seal. The water is a little choppy but she is a strong swimmer and takes advantage of her not-quite-human lung capacity to get close to the dummy animal. It is a little disconcerting, though. She's used to using her hidden talents to her advantage, but it does her little good now with Dr. Ramirez watching her carefully.

Carlos yanks on the tether a few times, making Johnny dart away from her to test her patience. In past tests he has had many a worker get impatient and try to rush the seal dummy, and the more they do the more he draws out the process. In one particularly disappointing showing, he had a potential hire lunge for the tether and try to pull the dummy in by the line. Today he is glad to see Vithya swim around Johnny, giving him a wide berth and approaching from his 'uninjured' side. She herds the seal back towards the boat, Carlos manipulating the line, until it is close enough that she feels safe to move in with the syringe.

It is plunged into the foam flank with a swift practiced motion from Vithya's arm, and she waits for ten beats before maneuvering the dummy onto the splash deck, assuring it will not fall asleep and drown in the water.

Along the free space across from the dummy, Carlos hauls himself up onto the boat and sits half-in half-out out of the water, watching her begin the process of stitching up the cut, which he put in it just this morning. He is pleased to see that she works quickly and efficiently, not pausing to consider what items she wants to use or dropping equipment in haste. She sits back when she's done. "Then I'd put a cloth over his eyes and wait until he's awake and coherent enough to allowing him to slip back into the water on his own, rather than forcing him."

Carlos makes an affirming noise in his throat. "And if he doesn't wake after thirty minutes?"

"Transport him to the facility and call the marine vet on site."

"And if his breathing becomes labored or stops?"

"Give rescue breaths—" she grabs a tube and a bag, "—by inserting this into the airway and breathing for him."

Carlos nods again, reaching over to his bag he brought on board and pulling out a pocket knife. "Now, this last bit you don't actually do to the real seals," he says, smiling. Taking the knife, he cuts into the seal right where she gave the pink injection, pulling the two sides apart. Inside are layers of foam separated by plastic, indicators of different layers of skin and muscle. They can clearly see which layer she successfully put the pink dye in. "Not a drop out of place. Well done, Miss Miller. Well done all around."

"I passed?" she asks, a tremulous shake in her voice, almost not daring to hope.

Carlos grins, holding out his hand to shake. "You passed. Congratulations, you're the newest member of the Marine Mammals Research Team."

She grabs his hand, her own grin exploding across her face. "Oh my god! Thank you, sir, thank you so much!"

"You've earned it." He pulls the second medical kit over to them. "This is yours to do with as you like. Always keep it well stocked with what's in here, but you can add things that you think are useful. If you find something you think the rest of us can benefit from, let us know, we're always looking for new tricks to keep up our sleeves. Tomorrow we can sign the papers, and I'll go over your new duties with you over the next week or so. Once you're comfortable we'll get you on some long term projects."

She nods and takes the kit almost reverently. "I need to tell my family. They're going to want to throw a party."

"You keep up the quality of work I've seen from you over the past and you'll be neck deep in research in no time."  
  
Vithya asks a handful of questions about the job up front that Carlos dutifully answers while pulling off his flippers. But now that they're out of the water and the hot sun is beating down on them, their wetsuits are starting to feel stifling. Carlos stands gets the boat moving again, headed back for land. She glances up when he suddenly shakes his head out, wet hair flying everywhere. He then pulls out a band and ties the heavy hair back from his face

She giggles a little. Okay, that was pretty dog-like. Then she imagines him shaking out his whole body like a dog and falls into a fit of laughter that she tries to hide by looking interested in her new medical bag.

Carlos looks back at her. "Why do I get the feeling you're in on a joke I don't know about?" he asks, smiling slightly but confused.

"No! No its just. Uh," she bites her lip, "You looked like a L’Oreal ad just now."

"What?" He gives her a side-eye as he starts up the boat. "Oh, the hair thing. I guess it is getting awfully long. I'm thinking of cutting it."

"No!" she blurts. Gods, Cecil would be insufferable, especially after the haircut incident a few years back. Cecil would probably die, mainly because she and Dana would kill him for the incessant whining.

He startles a little at her outburst. "No?"

"It looks good, like that! I'm sure the—the ladies all dig it."

Carlos barks out a laugh at that.

"What? No ladies in your life?" she asks, not expecting an answer but unable not to press.

"No, no ladies," he replies. He glances at her. "It isn't like my preferences are a secret, but I guess it's more open among my team. There will never be a lady in my life."

"Oh? OH. So a gentleman, then?" Like she doesn't already know. “I'm sure the gentlemen love it, too."

"I...I'm not sure," he says, looking a little shy all of a sudden. "There haven't been many gentlemen in my life, either. But...maybe."

"Long hair suits you." She smiles warmly, imagining Cecil nodding enthusiastically in agreement. "I think any maybe-gentlemen would enjoy it."

"You think? It seems like everyone has an opinion on it, people saying that it isn't professional, but if it's tied back I don't see what the big deal is, and I like it on the longish side, but I just don't know if he likes it, because he has fairly long hair too and—" He stutters to a stop, looking chagrined at what just bubbled up out of his mouth.

"Oh?" she smiles wider. "He has long hair too? How long?"

"I've only ever seen it braided, down to below his shoulder blades," Carlos admits after a momentary silence during which he decides on the merits of continuing the conversation at all.

"So who is he? No one in the aquarium has a long braid." Vithya tugs her flippers off and unzips her wetsuit while she talks, needing to feel the cooler air on her skin. She's wearing her MBARI swimsuit underneath.

"No, no one at the aquarium. But, he has an affinity for the pinniped population. Gives us something in common, I suppose.”  
  
“That and long hair,” she points out.  
  
“Yeah, I guess. To tell you the truth," he says, pulling up to the dock and bringing the boat to a stop, "I haven't actually gone on a...you know. Date. With him."

She can hardly hold back the grin that is threatening to bloom. "Are you going to? Not that it's any of my business."

"It's fine," he says, beginning to strip off his wetsuit. Underneath he is wearing a MBARI t-shirt and his hideous swim trunks. She wishes he would buy new ones. "We aren't nearly as formal with each other once you're on a team. But I'm meeting him for coffee."

“A coffee date?”  
  
“Uh...well? I'm not sure,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He even worries his bottom lip with his teeth, one of his canines looking awfully bright and sharp as it digs into the flesh.

“How can you not be sure?” she asks.  
  
That earns her a narrow-eyed look, but he does not look offended. Just annoyed. “It's complicated.”

“Isn't it always?” Vithya laughs. Doctor Ramirez gives a soft laugh of agreement, the two of them shouldering their gear and heading up towards the employee entrances.

"Come on, let me buy you lunch."

"Are you sure? I couldn't possibly let you do that!"

"No, no! This is a celebration! It's no trouble at all. Besides, we both have to eat.” Carlos checks his watch. It is just after noon, plenty of time to eat and not feel stuffed before he meets with Cecil. “I'll meet you at the front in ten minutes? We can walk down to that deli down the street."

Vithya agrees and they go their separate ways at the locker rooms.  In ten minutes she's waiting in her street clothes by the front exits. Like everyone who works at MBARI, she avoids wearing work clothes in the main area when not on the clock, since that is the fastest way to get stopped by random tourists with questions about directions or tickets or animals or any number of other things that will keep you from getting out the doors. When Carlos shows up he is in his own street clothes and they soon find themselves at the deli counter down the street.

Ordering a turkey club, Vithya steps to the side for Carlos. When Carlos orders the steak sandwich he specifies he wants the meat rare.

"Rare?" she arches a brow.

"Best way to have it," he hums, taking his sandwich when it's put up on the counter.

"You're gonna get worms."

"I am _not_ going to get worms," he scowls, taking a seat. They settle in to eat, but Vithya keeps glancing  down at her lap. It takes him a minute to realize she's texting. “Am I keeping you?” he asks.

Her head pops up, wide-eyed. “Excuse me?”

"Who is that you keep texting?" he says instead.

She has the grace to look sheepish. "Oh, sorry, just a friend." Then, like a proverbial light bulb illuminating overhead, a little plan forms in her mind. "He needs a little dating advice."

There's a slight pause in Carlos' chewing before he continues. "Lady problems?"

"Man problems. _Why_ he goes to a lesbian for such advice is beyond me." She laughs at his surprised look.

"Why indeed," he says, tilting his head. "Well, maybe I can help. What is his problem?"

Vithya sighs theatrically. "He's had the biggest crush on a guy for the _longest time_ and he finally got a date with the gentleman. He isn't sure how much touch is appropriate for a first date with a man who seems somewhat shy and old-fashioned."

The creeping little feeling that Carlos has noticed all day intensifies a bit, but he lets it go. It must be a coincidence. Lots of people have first dates. Hell, he still isn't even sure of his own status with Cecil. Just a coincidence. "Hmm. Well, if he's shy and old-fashioned...it certainly wouldn't be a bad idea to take his hand. Maybe a little footsie under the table?" He smiles and looks like he's trying to imagine the scenario. "Maybe a kiss goodnight?"

"He's agonizing over it like a schoolboy. He's even been texting me _outfits_." She rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone.

Carlos itches to look, to sate his own curiosity, but refrains from asking and instead takes another bite of his sandwich. Vithya prattles on about it, though, enough that he doesn't need a visual to know some of the choices he's working with are wild.

“He's a bit eccentric,” she explains. “Honestly, the color combinations he puts together can be jarring. Like—like, for example, his first outfit had _lavender shorts and thigh high socks._ Looks like some sort of twisted schoolgirl thing. What was he thinking? And then he jumps straight over to a pencil skirt. All over the place.”  
  
“Sounds like a colorful character,” Carlos chuckles.

“He's at least narrowing some things down. What do you think? Wine red or navy?”  
  
“Red,” he says automatically, earning a quizzical look from Vithya. Carlos shrugs. “Red's my favorite, so I'm biased.”  
  
“You don't think that it might look too feminine?” she asks.

“If he's going on a date then he should be himself, not change for the other man, no matter how old fashioned he may be,” Carlos states.

That earns him a delighted grin and she raises her plastic cup. “Well said!”  
  
Laughing, he taps his own cup to hers and sips the straw while Vithya's eyes and thumbs go back to the little screen, typing out a message to the poor man in need of fashion advice. "So, your friend's date is tonight?"

"Yep. He's very excited."

"First date?"

Vithya nods and smirks. "But he's been crushing on this gentleman for months."

"And how do they know each other?"

"Happenstance. I'm not sure of the details, but it's very cute.” She takes a sip of her own drink. “What about you and your gentleman with the braid? How did you meet?”  
  
“...Happenstance,” he replies, everything ringing a little too oddly inside, instincts prickling but he cannot figure out exactly why. “You know, you look a little like him.”

“Really?” She gives a happy smile. “He must be a _very_ attractive man, then.”  
  
That startles a laugh out of Carlos, and he nods. “Of course.” He opens his mouth to continue, but the man at the table behind him shoves his chair backwards with sudden force, the metal clanging against metal and sending Carlos surging forward. He manages to brace himself against the table even as it jabs painfully into his ribs. Carlos lets out a faint growl beneath his breath, just loud enough for Vithya to pick up, and he glares over his shoulder at the retreating man's back. The perpetrator did not even seem to notice what he did.

"What an ass," Vithya hisses, eyes following him. "Oh! I think—it's that racist guy who keeps fishing illegally! You know the one? He has that stupid boat, what is it called?”  
  
“Indian Magiks, I know,” Carlos says, turning back to their table with a displeased face. When it looks like Vithya is going to say something to him, he quickly shakes his head. He makes sure to keep his head turned away until the door swings closed behind him. “Sorry, I really hate dealing with that guy.”  
  
“Who does he think he is?” she says, folding her arms. “Do you know him?”

“Tracker, I think. That's his last name, I never caught anything else. But we've had a few rows over the years. Moon and stars, he's so _damn_ rude, and he's always messing with wildlife even though he's been warned off the area by the coast guard.”

"Moon and… are you Pagan?" Then she slaps her hand against her forehead "SORRY! That was rude of me!"

"Hmm? Oh, uh," he looks a little embarrassed. "Just a saying from when I was younger."

She clears her throat. "So, let's get back to your date—"

“No, really, let's not,” he chuckles. “It's not a date.”

“Oh, come on, it is totally a date.”  
  
“Vithya, you haven't signed any papers, so don't press your luck,” he points out, smirking. It's enough to shut her up, but she still looks amused.  
  
“Fine,” she drawls. “But I'm right.” Vithya glances at the clock on her phone. "Bethanie said I could cut out after the ultrasound but I guess you're my supervisor now?"

"Not until everything is filled out, but we can do that tomorrow. You can go on, though. I know your family is excited, and some of us have more work to do today." He takes her trash from her and crumples it with his own.

She thanks him again before they stand up, and once more when they're outside on the sidewalk, and a final time in the parking lot before they part ways. As soon as Carlos disappears through the doors back into MBARI, she pulls out her phone and calls Cecil's number, but it goes to voicemail. Drat. He must be in the recording booth. Instead she sends one final text to Cecil.  
  
_He thinks you're very attractive. Go with the red._


	5. 4 - Half-date at Viva La Bean

Very little work is accomplished between the end of Carlos' lunch with Vithya and the time he leaves his office headed for Viva la Bean to meet Cecil. Most of it is spent idly checking his email, tinkering with the handful of broken temporary tags he has been meaning to repair, and beginning to read reports then discarding them just as quickly. His attention is far too captured by his upcoming date-or-not-date with Cecil. The status of which he knows he needs to verify as soon as possible, if only for his own sanity.

Still, he is glad that no emergencies come up because his button-down and jeans remain clean when he locks up his office to leave. He takes time in the parking lot to look at himself in his rear view mirror, running fingers through his wild curls to try and tame them somewhat, but that is a lost cause.  
  
He's ten minutes early at Viva la Bean, so he tarries for five before going inside. Cecil is not among the few patrons in the dining room. After ordering a coffee—one he wouldn't normally pick, but he always feels awkward just ordering a plain black coffee in these fancy places—he picks a smaller table near the back, one of the comfy ones with plush seats rather than the little unsturdy wooden chairs. Sipping his too-sweet coffee, he waits.

Seven minutes after four, Carlos starts fiddling with the little packets of sugar next to the faux-glass vase with a plastic pink flower on the table.

Eleven minutes after four, Carlos pulls out his phone to check if he possibly missed a call or a text, but there is nothing but an alert that he can update some of his apps.

Sixteen minutes after four, Carlos considers if he should leave and if it is possible to save some of his dignity to Vithya and Steve when they inevitably ask how his decidedly-not-a-date went.

Twenty-two minutes after four, the door to Viva la Bean clatters open suddenly and Cecil rushes in, winded and flushed hot. The arms of his loose cream sweater are rolled up haphazardly, his wine red leggings have a snag in the fabric running up the calf, his shoes are dirty, and his braid is a mess with flyaway hair everywhere. His eyes search desperately around the room before zeroing in on Carlos and the relief on his sweaty face is palpable.

"I'm _so sorry_ I'm late!" Cecil manages between pants as he comes up to the table, nearly collapsing into the opposite seat.  
  
Carlos' relief that he had been stood up is immediately replaced by worry. "What happened?"

"My bike got a flat tire and I had to push it almost half the way," Cecil explains. He grabs one of the napkins from the holder and starts blotting at his face, looking annoyed down at the paper when it comes away with smudges of his makeup.

"Why didn't you call? I could have come and got you, you didn't need to run on my account," Carlos replies.

Cecil pauses with his hands poised over his hair, blinking a moment. His already red face turns even redder. "I didn't think of that."

That makes Carlos smile a little. "You didn't abandon your bike, did you?"

"No. Its outside, the useless thing." Cecil pulls his hair ties free and fluffs out his long black and purple tresses, loosening the knots and getting some much needed air to his scalp.

"I can give you a ride home, after," Carlos suggests before he can consider it.

"You don't need to go through that trouble!" Cecil waves his hands at the thought. His nails are painted a pretty berry color and they shimmer with a glittery topcoat.

Carlos' eyes follow the motion for a distracted second before he presses. "No, no, you can't lug that thing all the way home. It won't be any trouble. Besides, you pop the other tire and you'll be in real trouble."

"Maybe you can drop me off at the bicycle store? I can buy a new tire."

"Deal," Carlos says, setting his cup down and making a move to stand. "Do you want anything?"

"Oh, I can get it myself—"

They both stand simultaneously and thanks to the tiny table between them they manage to bonk their foreheads together with a thunk. Carlos and Cecil hiss and grab their faces in unison. "Ow," Cecil whines, squinting at Carlos with slightly watered eyes. "Sorry!"

Carlos rubs at the pain in his forehead. "It's okay, sorry," he replies, chuckling a little. They're really bad at this. He stands completely, giving Cecil a little push to sit back down. "You just rest. What can I get you?"

After a moment of reluctance, Cecil relents. "Something cold and sugary?"  
  
"Coming right up," Carlos grins heading for the counter.

While Carlos is ordering, Cecil tries his best to get his breathing and his hair under control. He is glad he has years of experience braiding without looking in a mirror because it takes just a matter of minutes to get a loose yet attractive hairstyle. Well, he hopes it is attractive. It is not the one he spent nearly forty-five minutes on before he headed out, and he cannot do a thing about his ruined makeup. Hopefully it’s not too smeared.

Carlos glances back at him while he waits for Cecil's drink. Now that his hair is fixed, Cecil is trying to straighten his clothes. He stands up enough to smooth out his shorts, the red leggings accentuating the length and curve of his legs, the floral shorts doing such wonderful things for Cecil's rear. Tearing his eyes away from the sight, Carlos wonders if it is getting a little hot in here. He really needs to clear up things before he says or does something truly idiotic.

 _Wait a minute. Red leggings?_ Carlos looks back again, frowning. _Vithya had mentioned something about her cousin and red--_

The barista calls his name, and he loses the train of thought.

The selkie smiles wide and pleased up at Carlos when he sets a creamy white chocolate and caramel concoction in front of him, a big red and white striped straw poking out of the top of the domed cup. "Thank you," Cecil says, sipping happily. The cool sugary goodness is just what he needs right now. Now that he can _breathe_ and _think_ at the same time, he takes in Carlos' appearance. "You look good."

"So do you," Carlos replies. He feels like he has had three espressos instead of the half a cup of coffee in his hand and the one he had that morning before work.

Cecil gives him a hundred watt smile. "Thank you. How was your day? I wasn't on the water today, hopefully one of us got to enjoy it."

"I had an exam I had to minister to one of my employees. She ended up getting a promotion because of it," Carlos says. "After that it was mostly paperwork."

"An exam? Like a written exam?" Cecil asks.  
  
"No, no, I like to do things a little more practical." He latches onto the story, explaining the tasks he had Vithya complete. Thankfully he manages to refrain from technical or medical jargon that would have made Cecil's eyes glaze over. Cecil listens enraptured all the same, asking the occasional question and drinking from his tasty drink.  
  
"...but she'll be able to start proposing her own projects, as soon as she gets adjusted to her new responsibilities, and—and I am babbling," Carlos says with a laugh and a sudden flush of realization.  
  
"It's interesting," Cecil replies. "Sounds more interesting than my day."  
  
"What were you up to?" Carlos asks.

Cecil takes another sip of his drink. "I was working on a script for the show, but my new supervisor is being a stick in the mud about the plot. We had a little...tiff."

"About what?" he asks with a frown.

Rolling his eyes, Cecil sighs and explains, "Daniel wants to cut back on the evil corporation stuff and he's all pissed that I'm not making it family friendly."

"Family friendly?" Carlos considers that. "I don't think it's necessarily _not_ family friendly. Depending on the family, I suppose. There are some dark things, but isn't it mostly just descriptive? What does that even mean?"

"Less _scary elements_ ," he replies, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.

"Isn't that kind of the point?" Carlos asks.  
  
Cecil sucks in a deep breath, and Carlos has a moment to think maybe he shouldn't have brought it up before the selkie launches into the story of Daniel, the new supervisor that took over a few months ago. Daniel is a dedicated Strexcorp employee, and while most of the people that Cecil has met from their new parent company are delightfully friendly, Daniel seems to have a proverbial stick up his ass (or maybe even literally, Cecil says from behind his hand.) Daniel seems to be more concerned about the computer readouts of their ratings and advertising slots and getting more listeners that have expendable cash to buy merchandise than quality of content or connecting with fans. Add to that his somewhat outdated views of Cecil and Kevin, the other radio host from Night Vale's sister show, and it is no surprise that he and the other hosts are always trying to undermine Daniel's authority.

"So that's why we decided to write him into the show as a robot," Cecil ends with aplomb, waving his half-empty cup around theatrically before taking another sip.

"A robot? Wait, I don't remember a robot in your show yet..." Carlos says, frowning.

Cecil looks a touch chagrined, and laughs. "Ah, well. Spoiler alert."

Even though listening to Cecil talk could never be considered a hardship, Carlos now finds himself at a loss. How does he bring up the topic he really wants to ask about? How do you just segue into it?  
  
The growing silence between them is interrupted by Carlos' phone jingling happy and annoyingly in his pocket. As Carlos scrambles to retrieve it, muttering apologies, Cecil just chuckles. "We really need to get you a custom ringtone. Nobody uses the default ones anymore."

"Hello?" Carlos answers after a quick glance at the caller ID. How does Steve keep managing to blunder his way into his meetings with Cecil?

"Hey Carlos! Sorry to bother you twice in one day, but I really really _really_ need a favor."  
  
"Okay, shoot," Carlos says, bemused.  
  
"I got a call about a possible job photographing this pod of whales that a group is tracking off the coast of Washington, and there's a possibility of getting some shots of a live birth. But I've hit up all my usual sitters and they're all either busy or sick. Is there any way you can watch Emily this weekend?"

Carlos blinks at Cecil across from him. "You want me to babysit." The flat statement makes Cecil giggle into his hand.

Steve's voice turns to pleading. "If it's okay? Please, Carlos, I'm begging you. I don't want to send her over to my ex."

Yuck. Ex-Mrs. Steve Carlsberg. No one should have to endure the presence of that harpy. That is enough for Carlos to make a face and nod in agreement, even if Steve cannot see it. "Fair enough. From when to when?"

"I found someone for Friday night, but she has work early in the morning. I can have her drop Emily off Saturday around ten, and I'll be back in town Sunday night. But I'm not sure how late."

Carlos thinks through his schedule quickly. "Sure, sure, I can do that. And if you get in too late Sunday night, you can come pick her up Monday morning, I won't mind."  
  
"Great! Thank you, Carlos, you're a life saver. Let me tell you about this whale pod, though. Seriously, there might be as many as—"  
  
"Steve, uh," Carlos glances up at Cecil then back down at the table. "I really can't talk right now. I'm on a date."

Across the table from Carlos, Cecil's eyes fly wide and he sucks in a breath. Everything seems to stop in that one moment, like the noise is sucked from the room, and all Carlos can hear is the pumping of his blood through his veins. Even Steve is completely silent on the other end of the line.

Then he opens his mouth.  
  
_"Oh!_ Well, then, my _apologies!_ Sounds like someone got their act together," Steve says loud and amused. "I will let you get back to your date, then. You two have fun. I'll call you later. Unless you'll be busy?"  
  
"Steve."

"Right, right, I'll let you call me then. Remember to use protection, or you'll end up with a little Emily of your own—"

_"Steve."_

"Thanks again!" Carlos swears he can hear the bastard laughing as he hangs up.  
  
As the call ends, Carlos raises his eyes to Cecil's, and the light flush of pink that has returned to Cecil's cheeks has nothing to do with his frantic run to the coffee shop. Neither does the pleased smile that graces his features. But he doesn't say anything, and Carlos really cannot leave well enough alone.  
  
"Is this a date?" he blurts, and Carlos does not think he could be more red in the face if he tried. Cecil takes a breath to answer but they lycan is too wound up now to stop, so his mouth just keeps going. "That was awful of me, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have presumed, but I didn't know and things weren't clear if-if-if this was a date, or even if last time was a date, either, it could have been, there was food and conversation and you-you seemed to maybe be into it but I-I couldn't tell, and it seems like something we should be clear about if we aren't being—being clear, you know, with each other, I just want everything to be clear?" _Why do you keep saying that?_ "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I-I'll just—" He finally manages to click his mouth shut and looks out the window, pained and embarrassed.

Cecil, for his part, is glad that he is technically an actor and can school his features back to a neutral expression. But really, could Carlos be any more adorable right now? "Do you want it to be a date?" he asks instead.

"I'd like to know it's a date beforehand," Carlos replies, wishing that he was not so pathetic when it comes to things like this.

"It doesn't have to be," Cecil says. "If you're not comfortable with the idea, it doesn't have to be. We can just be friends." And it kills Cecil a little to say it, because while it is true that being friends with Carlos is more than he ever expected, _dating_ would be far superior.

Carlos is quiet for long enough that Cecil thinks that might be his answer when Carlos murmurs, "Are you asking me?"  
  
His voice is low and gentle, but something in Carlos' face when he raises his head again catches Cecil by surprise. There is something in it, in the open expression, something vulnerable in it that resonates with Cecil in a way he does not quite understand. Almost hopeful.

"I am," Cecil says finally, his grip tight on the coffee cup he's all but forgotten in his hands.

Carlos swallows, and breathes out. "Okay."

"...okay?" Cecil asks.

At Cecil's slightly confused look, Carlos nods and repeats. "Okay. To the dating."

"Okay."  
  
"Okay."  
  
They stare at each other a long moment and it is too close to tell who breaks first, smiles stretching their faces, a breathy little giggle escaping Cecil. "Gods, we are bad at this," Cecil laughs. "So, for the sake of clarity, is this a date?" Cecil asks.

"Yes. Well," Carlos looks around, sheepish. "Maybe not the best. A coffee date, I guess? Maybe a half-date?"

"Whatever you want to call it, as long as it has the correct connotation," Cecil replies, sipping his drink.

"Now that we have that out of the way, let's ask the important question: you babysit?"  
  
Carlos snorts, shoulders relaxing and rubbing the back of his neck. "I have been known to on occasion."

Cecil processes this new information excitedly. He has to admit that he never pictured Carlos as being really into kids. If Carlos is ever allowed at the safe-house then maybe the pups won't completely terrify him. "Do you like children?" 

"Oh yes," he nods, smiling. "To tell you the truth, I seem to be a kid magnet at the aquarium. I can't walk through some of the exhibits without making a new friend, it seems. And my sisters, they have a slew of kids and are always begging me to come visit. We skype a lot."

"You have sisters? And nieces and nephews? How many?"

"Four sisters. Theresa, Jovita, Elena and Mireya. And...uh..." He pauses, doing some quick calculation on his fingers, "Sixteen nieces and nephews? I might be miscounting."

 _"Sixteen?!"_ Cecil's jaw drops. Sure, he is used to big families in the colony, but that many children are normally spread out among many more mates. "Your sisters must be pregnant all the time!"

"Oh! No, no," Carlos laughs, looking around before answering, "We, uh...make big litters."

"You mean—oh! Really? All at the same time?" Cecil asks, even more in awe.

"They have to be in their other form for the later part of the pregnancy," Carlos explains. "It would be very difficult otherwise."

"I'll say!" Then Cecil has a thought that he had long dismissed, but now comes roaring back and he has to know. "Are you a parent?"

The change on Carlos' face is almost comical. "Oh! No no no, ha, no. No no. Not really—" He flushes and glances at the table behind Cecil, but the person there has their headphones on, "Not really attracted to the right sex for procreation, I'm afraid."

"Me neither," Cecil says, sagging with relief. "I didn't see a carseat in your car but, well, that's not always reliable. Are your sisters older or younger? I can't imagine being the only boy."

"My sisters were all in a litter before me."

Cecil coos at that. "The baby! So cute!"

"It's not that cute."  
  
"Sure it is!" Then Cecil pauses, thoughtful. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty-three."  
  
"Really?" Cecil blurts, then cringes. "Sorry! That came out really rude! I didn't mean it to be quite so...incredulous."

"Is that a 'too-old' really, or a 'wow, not so old' really?" Carlos asks, bemused. 

"I was just surprised. What with your..." he taps his temples. "Bad genetics?"

Carlos hand comes up to touch lightly at the bloom of silver hair just above his ears, flushing a little at the mention of them. "Mi padre has it, too. It started showing up in undergrad. Everyone thought it was oh-so-funny, of course. Said it was evidence I needed to not be so studious." He chuckles at himself. "Luckily it seems it's stopped advancing for the time being."

"It looks good on you. Like a cute professor," Cecil teases.

"No, not even close," Carlos drawls, unable to stop his grin or the warmth spreading in his chest. "You're the one that looks like you're twenty."

Cecil looks down at himself theatrically before arguing, "I do not."

"Sure you do," he counters. "Especially when you make that face—that! That's the one!" he points, Cecil realizing he is biting his lip. It looks a touch too innocent to be coy. "And your eyes are all big and sweet looking."

"I bet you say that to all the boys," Cecil giggles, tucking a strand of hair back behind his ear. "Besides, I look my age at work."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"Thirty-one. I just don't see why I should have to be all stuffy and only wear boring colors—not that _you're_ stuffy or boring, I didn't mean—stop laughing at me, you brute!" Cecil throws his empty balled-up straw wrapper at Carlos, the two of them falling into silent giggles.

"Why do you look your age at work?" he finally asks.  
  
Cecil huffs, crossing his arms. "They implemented a dress code."  
  
"At a radio station?"

"I know, right?! We have to wear slacks or a modest skirt with panty hose, closed-toe shoes, and a collared shirt or a blouse! We used to be able to wear pretty much whatever we wanted as long as the, you know, scandalous bits were covered. It's not like anyone can see us!"

Imagining Cecil dressed in a smart suit, sharp and smooth, now that is a lovely thought. Though, Carlos has only seen Cecil in person twice, and if today's outfit and the one he saw last time are any indication, Cecil must _hate_ fashion restrictions. "I'm sure you find ways to add your own touch?"

"Well, they haven't put a limit on colors or nails and hair, so there's that," Cecil self-consciously touches the purple streak in his hair, curling the locks around his fingers.

"I like it," Carlos says. When Cecil looks up at him, he adds, "Your hair. It suits you. Brings out your eyes."

"You think so?" Cecil smiles at him warmly. "I started dying it really young. I've toned it down a lot since then, though. I used to have bubblegum pink hair as a teenager."

"I dyed mine once or twice," he says, grinning. "But pink? Hmmm, I think purple is the better choice for you."

"You—!" Cecil looks choked up a moment, scrambling for words. "You _dyed_ your _hair?"_

"Lime green," Carlos says, thinking back on it. "It was shorter then, but I was a teenager. What can you do."

Cecil might be having a stroke. "Your hair is so beautiful, though! I can't imagine it being nicer in any other color!"

"It's graying," he says flatly.

"It looks distinguished," Cecil replies insistently.

Carlos figures he may as well get the other elephant in the room out of the way and gives a small smile. "Would you call it 'perfect?'" he asks, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Rendered speachless twice in under a minute. Carlos feels a touch proud of the accomplishment. Cecil rallies well enough, obviously embarrassed. " _Maybe._ "

He smiles wider and looks down at the cup in his hands. "I did listen to the show."

"I didn't think you, uh...listened to the early episodes."

"I didn't want to miss any of the story," he replies, sipping his drink and waiting for Cecil to speak.

The selkie messes distractedly with his nails, trying to will his blush to go away, before saying flippantly. "Well. You do have perfect hair."

"When on Earth did you have a chance to look at my teeth?" Carlos asks. That one has always perplexed him, and he really does not think there is anything special about his teeth, of all things.

"You do smile sometimes."

"But you were always so far away," he argues.

"Not always! Not when I got up close to see your camera that one time, or when I got up on the boat. Or, uh, when I...flopped on you." Gods, it hurts to admit he did that. Way to look desperate. But at least Carlos takes it in stride, because that draws a full laugh from Carlos.

"You don't have to flop on me to get close," he says, then laughs at his own words. "I mean...uh...hmm. Well, you know what I mean."

Cecil grins and lets that slide, pressing on. "But I did see your teeth. You always smiled at me."

Carlos licks his lips and admits, "Seeing you always made me smile."

"Even though I was annoying?" he asks, grinning wider. Cecil knows he sometimes overstepped, but it was all in good fun.

"It was endearing, even when you were keeping me from my work," Carlos allows.

"There's something I have to ask," Cecil says, leaning forward a little. "Once, about...a year or so ago, your team caught me and took some blood from me. What did you use it for?" His memory is a little foggy because he was sedated for part of it. Floating in the space between asleep and awake, things had been a hazy mess, and the only clear recollection had been Carlos presence and the dull sting of the needle in his rear flipper.

"Oh. Oh!" Carlos sits up, mimicking Cecil's posture. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't even think—" He cuts himself off. There's nothing he can do for it now. "It was for my studies, checking the relative health of the seals in the bay area, checking for pollution contaminants in the bloodstream."

Cecil gasps, hand flying up to his throat. "Contaminants? I didn't have contaminated blood, did I? Am I sick?"

"No! You were completely healthy— _are_ completely healthy, I promise" Carlos says reassuringly. 

"Oh good. I've always wondered...I mean, I don't remember much but you couldn't have known that I wasn't going to bite."

"Still..." Carlos blushes. They had done a quick field physical. They had measured Cecil, opened his mouth, looked in his eyes—enough. "Sorry for...all that."

"It's okay! No harm done." Cecil reaches over and pats his arm comfortingly. "If I didn't trust that you weren't going to hurt me, I would have never let myself get sedated."

"You...you did not let yourself get sedated," he says, shaking his head. "No way."

"I have good eyesight."

"Then why...?"

"I figured you had a good reason, even if I didn't know what it was."

"That's awful trusting of someone you've only had a one-sided conversation with," Carlos replies. "I can't say I would have ever done the same."

"I...studied you through observation," Cecil says carefully, tilting his head to look at Carlos from under his lashes. "You never once hurt anyone else, so, _scientifically speaking_ , you were unlikely to break that pattern and hurt me."

A slow grin spreads on Carlos' face and he lenas a little closer to the table, aware of Cecil's hand lingering on his arm. "Now you're just trying to butter me up," he says.

"Is it working?"

"Maybe," he admits.

This time its Cecil's phone that rings, breaking the gaze they had held and causing Cecil to remove his hand from Carlos' forearm. The lycan immediately misses the warmth. Cecil checks the text and cuses under his breath. "I've got to go. The colony needs me."

Carlos thinks he hides his disappointment well, nodding. "That's fine. We didn't get to the bike shop, though. You can't push it all the way home. Or...wherever you're going."

"Home. But that's okay. I can have one of the guys drive me to get my bike fixed tomorrow." Cecil stands up and stretches, showing off the long lines of Cecil's body.

It is just not fair, Carlos thinks. He has not been on a proper date in...he doesn't even want to think about how long it has been. Far, far too long for his liking. Tearing his eyes away, Carlos takes Cecil's empty cup and throws their trash away, holding the door open for him as they step out onto the sidewalk.

Cecil's bicycle is obvious—the pretty fuschia one with the white walled tires, a cream seat, a basket on the front and one flat tire. Once it is unlocked from the rack, Carlos lifts it under one arm and starts for his car. "Mine is the Prius, over there," he says, motioning to the light blue car parked across the small lot. The back seat, he's chagrined to remember, is pretty full of things. "Uh, let me...just...rearrange things," he adds, setting the bike down, opening the back door and leaning in to move things around.

Cecil frets a little. "It's really ok! I can walk!" He bites his lip. Gods, he has a nice butt. Shapely. Firm.

"Gimme just a minute," Carlos insists over his shoulder, putting a knee on the edge of the seat so he can lean over two boxes to put things in the floorboard. And stretching the seat of his pants just so.

This is torture, Cecil thinks. Seeing it from a distance in a wetsuit is bad enough, but damn it, that cute rear is literally within grabbing distance. Pure torture. Cecil turns away and busies himself with putting the U-lock back on the frame of his bicycle and looking anywhere but at Carlos' pert rear.

When Carlos steps back out from with the car and turns to Cecil, the back seat has been rearranged enough to fit the bicycle inside if they angle it a bit and the passenger seat is moved up a notch. Once it is secure, they hop in. "Where to?" Carlos asks, aware of Cecil looking with interest around his car at all his...well, it is not junk but it is certainly a lot of stuff.

"Here, let me pull it up." Cecil puts his phone up on the dash so Carlos can see the GPS. Then, because Cecil has never had the best of impulse control and really, he restrained himself just now, didn't he? He picks up a random packet of papers from the floorboard. Looks like notes on some of Carlos' work, with a couple photos of seals attached with a paperclip. None that he recognizes from the bay, though. "This is a lot," he mentions.

"Sorry about the mess," Carlos says, consulting the little screen before putting his car in reverse to back out of his space. "I'm always back and forth with it from my house to work."

"It's okay! If I had a car it would probably look like this." Cecil looks around. There really is stuff everywhere. Journals and equipment and files and files all over. "Is all this for work?"

"Most of it. I end up doing paperwork at home half the time so I never know what I'll need where. But all the important stuff is in duplicate, so no worries."

Cecil hums, relaxing back in his seat. "Thank you for driving me."

"Of course! I couldn't let you walk," he says, heading off down the road. "Nothing's wrong at home, is there?" he asks. Cecil had seemed a little abrupt about it.

"They need my skills. They want to take the pups hunting and I have to help find a good place."

And there it is again. "How? What kind of skills?"

"I have a good eye."

"...you said that," Carlos says, side-eyeing him. That hardly answers the question.

Cecil smiles enigmatically, gaze out the window and ignoring the look to his left. "And it's still true. Plus, they need a good watcher to keep an eye out for predators. The pups can sometimes attract things when they get too excited."

"You'll be careful, though, right?" he asks, getting a feeling he's definitely missing something but not sure how to ask.

"Always. I won't be in any danger."

Carlos follows the GPS directions to the coordinates Cecil put in, entering what most consider the 'nicer' part of Monterey along the coast. There is a lot of wooded areas and large homes, estates even, and Carlos feels increasingly inadequate with each elaborately decorated yard and pricey vehicle they pass. Especially when they pull down the final road and the properties are completely fenced in. He had been holding up his end of the conversation but it comes to a hault when a police cruiser pulls onto the road behind him. Carlos spots several other squad cars in driveways that they pass.

"Are you okay?" Cecil asks, noticing Carlos has stopped talking.

"Sure, fine," he replies, sitting straighter in his seat and cutting his attention between the road ahead and the car behind. "Lot of protection in this area, huh?"

"A lot of selkies are in law enforcement," Cecil says, waving politely at one of the colony members as they pass, a middle aged woman checking her mail. "And they live all around this area, but usually two or three families to a home. The ones that want to move out of the safe-house." He glances over at Carlos. The lycan is obviously nervous, or wary, or maybe both. "Are you sure you're okay? You look tense."

"Police just make me nervous, it's nothing," Carlos says, smiling over at Cecil. The selkie can understand that; lots of people get nervous around law enforcement.

He lets it go as the GPS announces that their destination will be on the right. It is the last gate on a long stretch of fencing, at the end of the cul de saq. Carlos can't see much of the property beyond because of the high walls, dense treeline, and the curvature of the driveway beyond. He can smell the sea, though, and several vehicles and people. The scent of at least two dozen people passing through the area within the last twenty four hours, and if he was so inclined he could wittle each down to individual traits. He can even scent Cecil mixed in with the others, his particular brand of hand lotion and the salty-sweet taste of salt water taffy that seems to cling to Cecil as a scent all his own.

"Here we are," Carlos says unnecessarily.

"Here we are." Cecil echoes. He doesn't know how to interpret the look on Carlos' face but he doesn't think that the lycan wants a lengthy conversation in the middle of the road. "Let me give you my cell."

They both scramble to find something blank enough for Cecil to write on, Carlos coming up with an old receipt crammed in the console while Cecil discovers a number two pencil in pocket on the door. "Let me get your bike out of the back," Carlos says, getting out of the car to avoid being awkwardly cramped.

The police car that had been following them pulls around Carlos as he steps out of the car, the electronic gate easing open. The officer inside is looking at him with a look of open confusion and distrust and Carlos thinks it is time to make his retreat.

Cecil scribbles down his number with a little _XOXO_ underneath his looping letters, the ‘i’ in his name dotted with a little heart. "I had a really good time today. Thank you for bringing me home."

"I had a good time too," Carlos says, setting the broken bike down for Cecil to take. He shoves one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the little receipt tight. "Um. Listen, I know you have to get going—"

"Call me?" Cecil smiles. "Or text. Whatever is easier. I'd like to see you again."

Carlos nods, a small smile growing. "I will. Um. And I want to see you, again, too. I'll—I'll call later?"

"Sounds good." Cecil picks up his bike and pushes it through the already open gate. "Text me so I know you got home safe!"

"I will," he says, giving a little wave. Carlos gets back in his car after Cecil disappears from view, looking down and smiling at the curvy handwriting. A glance up reveals not one officer, but three looking at him from up the driveway, so he makes a quick turn and heads for home.

* * *

 

After a simple dinner of soup and a sandwich, Carlos ends up going to lay down early, his phone in hand. Is eight a good time to call? Should he wait a little later? Or should he have waited a few days? That's what he has heard people say to do, but that seems so unnecessary. Cecil told him to call or text. So that should be fine. Right?

Deciding that a text can be ignored until later if he is overstepping, Carlos then thumbs in about fourteen messages before he decides on a simple _Hi, are you busy?_ He hits send before he can second guess himself, then tosses the phone on the bed next to him. "You are a sorry, sorry man, Carlos Ramirez," he mutters to the ceiling.

Half a city away, Cecil is only just getting out of the shower when he hears his phone jingle in the bedroom he shares with Vithya. She is out with some of the girls, something about happy hour downtown, so at least he has the room to himself for the night. He wraps his hair up in a towel and tugs on his boxers before grabbing the phone.

"It's him!" Cecil's glad Vithya went out, because no one is there to witness him squeal happily. He hops onto his bed and opens the window by the headboard, leaning against the opening so he can look out at the ocean while he types.

> _> Just got out of the shower. Was on the water til after 7:30_
> 
> _> Everything okay?_
> 
> _> Yeah. The kids kept scaring off the fish so we had to keep moving lol_
> 
> _> Sounds like you had a successful hunt_
> 
> _> Yeah! All the kids got a fish!_

Cecil pulls his hair from the towel and shakes it out. It could really use a brushing, but he takes a selfie anyway. Looking at the little image, he thinks he can live with the result and sends the picture to Carlos.

When his phone lights up with the new message, Carlos isn't expecting the little picture that follows. Moon and stars above, Cecil is gorgeous, he thinks. The lamplight from his room warms one side of his face, the moonlight from the open window casts the other side in brilliant silver, his smile bright enough to be a light source all its own. Hair tousled and damp, bare shoulders and throat, the top of his chest...

Carlos swallows.

> _> You look beautiful._

Cecil's heart flutters at the compliment. Carlos thinks he is beautiful!

> _> Aww thank u! (///) _ _Wat did u have for dinner?_
> 
> _> Just some tomato soup and grilled cheese. Didn't feel very hungry. You?_
> 
> _> we all caught an octopus_

It had been a real find, something he would have never attempted if he had been on a solo hunting trip. Fighting an octopus alone is dangerous and something seals and selkies alike avoid if at all possible, the risk of injury or death too great to attempt. But the three adults in their group had been able to take it down easily once Cecil had instructed the pups to haul out on some nearby rocks with their own catches, well out of range.

> _> How exotic! _ _I take it you're a sushi fan._
> 
> _> YES!! I _ _♥ sushi! do u like it?_
> 
> _> I do! Too many choices around here. Where do you go?_
> 
> _> The place right by the beach. Sakura. Theirs is the freshest_
> 
> _> I'm surprised you don't just make your own, surely it would be fresher than anywhere else_
> 
> _> Rolling sushi is not easy lol_

Cecil laughs at the mental image of everyone crammed into their kitchen trying to make beautiful rolls and sticky rice. It would be a disaster.

> _> Plus the pups don't like it. we've got 2 make stuff in bulk_
> 
> _> Good point. What do you prefer to make then?_
> 
> _> i don't really cook. but i can make sandwiches_

Carlos considers that and, feeling brave behind the little barrier of the phone screen, answers with another question.

> _> And what sort of foods do you prefer other people make you?_
> 
> _> all kinds! just nothing v spicey_

Cecil is practically vibrating with excitement. Does this mean Carlos would like to cook for him? He has never had a date cook for him. Sure, maybe after he has been intimate with someone, they might cook him breakfast, but never...never as a proper meal.

> _> Surely you have a favorite? Or do you like to be surprised?_
> 
> _> well i do like things more than seafood. its nice 2 switch it up_
> 
> _> Good to know_

Carlos even adds a winky smiley face emoji to the end of that one, hitting send before rolling over onto his stomach and thumping his head down into the pillow with a groan. He never sends emojis. He has never had anyone he wanted to send emojis to. "Why are you so _bad_ at this?" he asks himself.

The phone dings again.

> _> are u a good cook?_

He props up on his elbows still on his front to respond.

> _> I think I do a pretty good job. I prefer things from home._
> 
> _> do u cook a lot of Spanish food? Mexican food? what's the proper phrase 4 that? I dont want 2b offensive_
> 
> _> You're not being offensive, the styles have similarities, and yes I do! When I'm not being lazy._

Cecil frowns, biting his lip. Mexican food is sometimes very, very bad for him. He doesn't want to eat something Carlos made and then spend the rest of the night with heartburn or worse.

> _> Is it all spicy?_
> 
> _> It can be. But I try to take the tastes of my guests into account_
> 
> _> what do u cook when u babysit?_

Cecil is still tickled by the fact that Carlos is going to be watching a toddler, and that said toddler apparently already loves him. That Carlos has watched her before. Carlos with a baby in general just makes him want to giggle madly.

> _> Saturday night we're having grilled chicken and pan fries, and Sunday we're having spaghetti_

After he types that in, Carlos huffs at himself. "Come on, Carlos. Stop being a coward and just ask," he says out loud.

> _> You could join us, if you like?\_

"YES!" Cecil squeals, loud enough for someone in the room next door to bang irritably on the wall. "Sorry!" He scoots down onto his back on the bed before answering.

> _> I can bring over a few games. We have board games._
> 
> _> As long as they're appropriate for a toddler_
> 
> _> When can you come over_

"Is now an option?" Cecil asks rhetorically to the empty room. Saturday night he promised to go out with some of the others to celebrate Judith's birthday and get her out of the house for a few hours, since she has been taking care of both her husband and daughter for the past week and a half as they both had the flu. And then Sunday morning he promised Josie to help her with a quilt... tapestry... embroidery... thing. He never quite got what he was supposed to be doing, just that it would involve a needle, probably. Or at least holding yarn balls.

> _> Is Sunday okay?_
> 
> _> Sounds great!  You can come over whenever, I should be here all day unless theres an emergency @ work_
> 
> _> I'm sure you'll see me @ work before then_
> 
> _> You better behave!_

Cecil grins down at the screen.

> _> When have you ever known me to behave? _ _♥_


	6. 5 - That isn't in the Standard Operating Procedures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techniques described may not be accurate to actual operating procedure of MBARI or any other rescue/research facility, the authors are not marine animal experts. 
> 
> Never ever approach a wild animal, if you see an animal in distress call the local rescue hotline. Harbor seals, along with all marine mammals, are protected under The Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 making it illegal and punishable by law to "take" marine mammals without a permit or to harm or harass them. To learn more visit http://www.marinemammalcenter.org/Get-Involved/awareness-campaigns/leave-seals-be.html
> 
> Content warnings: gore, surgical procedures, animal injury

Friday finds Carlos once again staring through the viewfinder on his camera lying stomach-down on a shoreline, this time on the hard unforgiving surface of a rock rather than the soft sand. Also instead of being yards away from the seals, he is high above their current position in a wide cove surrounded by a natural wall of rock and dirt, an area of the beach better suited for the seal population to use as a birthing grounds than the exposed stretches of beach that the tourists frequent.

From his vantage point, he has only a slightly obstructed view of the sixty or so mothers and pups gathered on the thin strip of sand below. Slightly obstructed only because of the persistent haze of rain that has settled over Monterey like a gray chilly blanket this morning. The teams had to break out the rain gear and plastic ponchos in a variety of bright garish colors, and Carlos is glad he had his own navy windbreaker hanging from the hook behind the door in his office.

Next to him, James is sporting an obnoxiously bright yellow poncho and a look of irritation thanks to the drizzly rain. He has been looking without the aid of a camera's zoom feature and trying his hardest to take down the notes Carlos has been feeding him while still keeping his papers dry in their plastic sleeves.

That leaves Vithya standing in her bright aqua plastic rain gear, out of sight of the collection of seals on the other side of the ridge with a sour look on her face. Dr. Ramirez had instructed her to come along and she had been excited with what they might be studying today, but so far she has been regulated to carrying a bag, keeping out of sight, and fretting over the state of her hair. The fact that Carlos' hair is frizzing up far worse than her own is only a small consolation.

"Are you sure she'll be here?" James whispers at Carlos' side. He's straining his eyes at this distance to try and spot what they're looking for.

"It is statistically impossible to be sure of anything's exact location without empirical proof of..." Carlos trails off as he glances over at James, who is giving him a flat, unimpressed look. "Call it a hunch," he says instead, looking back through the viewfinder.

Vithya rolls her eyes and drops the bag she had on her shoulder to the wet dirt at her feet. It's waterproof, they can deal. "Dr. Ramirez, there's got to be at least seventy seals out there. How are you going to find a single pair, if you've never even seen one of them?"

"Keep your voice down, please," Carlos replies, sending a second warning look at her over his shoulder. He has not had many opportunities to work with Vithya yet since she joined the team full-time, and while she has so far proven a good worker, she has shown she does not have the best volume control in the field. If Carlos felt like indulging in his investigative side, he would guess she grew up with a big family and had to be loud to be heard. Something about the sometimes brusque way she goes about social interactions. "And I'll recognize her."  
  
"Don't see how," she mumbles to herself.

It takes Carlos scanning the crowd of animals one at a time, but he finally spots her: a very large, round harbor seal, a mottling of light brown and gray all over with two dark brown spots, like a second set of eyes under the first. A unique patterning, to be sure. This individual he has seen on a number of occasions, but she has always been wary of the scientists so getting close for accurate measurements has proven futile.  
  
That might be about to change, though. Zooming in with his camera as close as he can, he scans all around her for a minute to try and find a pup. But judging by her bulging belly, she is still heavily pregnant. "Shit," he curses.

"Shit?" Vithya asks, glancing at James nervously. Casting aside her orders to stay down, Vithya crawls up on James' other side, making sure that only her head peeks over the edge. "Why shit?"

"You found her?" James asks.  
  
"Over there, along the far wall, about thirty yards from the water," Carlos says.

James and Vithya squint to try and identify her. Now that they know where to look she is easier to see, a dark lump on the sand just slightly away from the ones around her. Vithya still looks confused, though. "There's plenty of seals still pregnant out there. She just needs a little longer to let the bun bake, right?"

Her coworker shakes his head. "Carlos says she was already overdo two weeks ago, even if she delayed the implantation of the embryo. She should have had it by now. Something is wrong."

Vithya's insides twist with worry at that. "Shit," she agrees, looking with James back over the edge. "What do you do then?"  
  
"We have to get a closer look," James replies.  
  
"How?"  
  
They both turn their heads toward Carlos, who hasn't looked up from his zoomed in view of the camera. But instead of being trained on the mother, he's moving it along top of the rock wall behind her, then along the water's edge, then where the two meet, considering his options. He's also mouthing something only to himself. It's a habit James is used to witnessing as his boss thinks through a situation for the best outcome. "Do you want me to go for backup?" James finally asks.

A slow nod as Carlos lowers the camera and takes in the whole scene before them. "Yeah. Get Terry, and grab that one intern. Joe? Jackson?"  
  
"Jeremy."

"He's the big one?"  
  
"If by big one you mean the one built like a tank, then yes, he's the big one."

"Yeah, him," Carlos nods. "We might need the lifting power. Get them and switch out the truck, we need one with more space in the back. Bring it as close as you can to that south beach, there," he says, pointing to where the sand disappears around the edge of the alcove and rock formations jut out of the water. "She's near the far edge of the group, possibly because she's feeling distressed and doesn't want to be surrounded. I'll get closer while you're gone and see if I can get a better idea of her situation. Keep your radios on."  
  
"Yes, sir," James replies, shimmying back down the embankment and taking off in their Jeep back to the aquarium.

Carlos watches another minute or so through his camera before clicking the lens cap securely back on, he and Vithya easing back down the rocks to solid ground. He drops down to one of the three bags that they already unloaded from their vehicle and starts to rifle through it. This leaves Vithya at a loss for what to do. She has not been given an assignment, and she is not familiar enough with this situation to know what her role is going to be. Is she supposed to be helping corral her at some point? Sedate the seal? Or is she just supposed to stand around and watch? "What do you need me to do, sir?"

He glances up at her then pauses. "That...is a good question," he replies, looking back down at his things and starting to pluck items from the bag seemingly at random. A few medical supplies, a larger pocket knife with extra features that she has seen him use on a couple occasions, a length of bright red rope, a _flare?_ Everything either disappears into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts or is attached to a belt loop by a carabiner. "I'm going to have to get close enough to see what we're dealing with here. At this point all I can tell is that she doesn't have a newborn with her. I don't even know if she can be moved or if I'll need to do something on site." He zips the now lighter weight bag closed and hands it to her to carry with her own gear, while he picks up his camera bag and the spare equipment. "Come on, and keep low."  
  
They duck down and circle around the area through tall dry grasses and uneven sand to the other side of the cove and down to the water's edge. The beach itself does not loop around like Carlos thought, so they have to heft their gear up over their shoulders and wade through thigh-high surf around the rock edge. Vithya makes a comment about how her rain gear seems hardly necessary now, but since she is keeping her voice low Carlos chooses not to reprimand her. They set their gear down on a high rock where the water is ankle deep, glad that the waves are relatively calm this time of morning.  
  
Carlos eases so he can look around the rock face without getting spotted by the seal they have come for.  Laying on her side facing the other direction, he can see that her abdomen is distended, bloated, and her breathing uneven. He cannot get a clear view of her face, but he can see that the sand around her is kicked up and gouged at, like she has been restlessly staying in that tight circle for a while. "Not good," Carlos murmurs.

Turning back to Vithya, he says, "There are three seals near enough to her to be an immediate problem. First thing we need is to isolate her more. That means either moving them or moving her, whichever we manage to accomplish first."

"We could try to entice the mother? If we try to move the other three it might incite a panic in the rest of the group, and frighten her into the water," Vithya suggests. But Carlos is already shaking his head.  
  
"Under no circumstances are you to try and get her to come to you. If she's in a lot of pain, there's a high chance she'll be overly aggressive, especially if she's in too much pain to move. We can try to force her closer to the wall and put more distance between her and the group, but I don't want you to have nowhere to run." He looks around the corner again, making sure they haven't moved. "Besides, I have my doubts that the others are going to move anyway. The territoriality of new mothers is not to be trifled with."  
  
Her hands squeeze hard at her sides. That was not what she wanted to hear. If he would just let her try, she could easily get the female to come toward her. This is going to take five times as long, and the poor girl is already in enough pain as it is. "What should I do?"

"I'll stick closer to the others in case they turn aggressive. You use your presence to try and herd her toward the wall. If she makes a break for the ocean, don't try and stop her, just let her go. I'll come in behind you with the sedative if we can get her seperated."  
  
"Okay," Vithya says, rolling her long sleeves up to her elbows.  
  
"You go right, I'll go left," Carlos states before wading around the corner.

The seals that are facing their direction raise their heads and others turn and scoot to see the two interlopers on their beach, a handful barking at them in warning. Carlos walks with calm, deliberate steps in a wide arc around their target, his very presence enough to send a few of the seals scattering farther down the beach away from them. It puts him in a precarious position, Vithya knows, as he now has to divide his attention between the various wild seals on one side and keeping track of her and the pregnant seal on the other.  
  
Vithya's loop is closer, and she clicks softly with her mouth as she eases toward the female, gaining its attention. This close Vithya can see that the seal is not damp from salt water but rather a layer of perspiration, as well as other fluids smeared into the damp sand around her. Dark brown eyes are wide enough that Vithya can see the sclera, the white shot through with red from pain and fear, and she bares her teeth menacingly at Vithya's approach.

She holds her hands up placatingly. "It's alright, mumma," she says gently, slowing even more though everything in her is telling her this is taking far too long. "It's okay, we're here to help."  
  
The female lets out a loud bellow, shakey but no less intimidating, and tries to turn her weight to face Vithya properly. The process is far too painful for Vithya to watch, especially when she rolls to her side and a higher-pitched pained sound escapes the animal's throat. A patch of blood in the sand under her becomes visible as she shifts to the side.  
  
All thoughts of procedure flee Vithya's mind. Moving far quicker than she should around a wild animal, she circles around so her back is to the rocks and she motions for the mother seal, the cadance of her voice changing just enough. "Come here, mumma, come here, we're going to help you."  
  
Vithya is distantly aware of Carlos' frantic questioning in the distance, but she ignores this. The seal puffs loud at her and bares her teeth again, mouth wide. "Shh, mumma, come here to me. Come here and let us help you. Let us help save your baby." Her eyes lock and remain focused on those of the seal. It is in that moment that the animal becomes aware of what she is, recognizes her as something other than human, one of their kind in mind if not in body.

"What are you doing? Get out of there--" Carlos is hissing over the distance between them, but his mouth clicks shut when the seal's demeanor changes. She starts to scoot across the sand toward Vithya, slow but eager, not the aggressive charge of an angry wild animal but the trusting heel of a tamed pet.

"That's it, mumma, you're doing so good!" Vithya coos, kneeling down in the sand as the animal comes closer.  
  
"Don't get any closer to her," Carlos warns, following up behind the seal, watching as it advances, still waving his arm back at the others in case they decide to investigate. "Vithya, I'm serious, back up--"  
  
Vithya raises a hand up, palm out. "Wait there, mumma." To Carlos' astonishment, the seal stops, cocking its head to one side. In the distance they can hear the rumble of the MBARI truck coming down the sand and Vithya makes soothing nonsensical noises to distract her.  
  
Realizing the opportunity for what it is, Carlos readies a syringe and walks up behind the seal, dropping to his knees by her tail. "Vithya, if she comes at you, turn and run," he murmurs, loud enough to alert the female to his presence so as not to be too startled. The mother turns her head and opens her mouth in warning at him. "I know, sweetheart, I know," he replies, plunging the needle in without further fanfare and injecting the clear liquid. It earns him a snap that he mostly dodges, and they both back off for a minute but the seal quickly succumbs to unconsciousness.

Once the seal is under, Vithya scurries over to them as fast as she can. "Did she get you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Carlos replies, brushing off the concern. There's a thin uneven line from midway up the side of his forearm to his elbow, but he is barely aware of the pain. Now is hardly the time to worry about cosmetic injuries. He has already lifted her tail to try and get a better look at the problem, but there is nothing immediately obvious other than the fact the seal is pregnant and dilated. "Go get the others. Tell them to bring the carrying harness. Quickly."

Scrambling to her feet, Vithya takes off at a run for the water. James has managed to climb up over the rocks and is looking down on her and the scene behind her. "What do you need?" he calls down.  
  
"The carrying harness! And lifting power!"

"Be right there," he replies, disappearing from sight. She waits by the water's edge to help take the harness' weight when James comes around the corner, Terry following with extra rope and intern Jeremy reluctantly bringing up the rear.

"We're driving it back to the aquarium? In the truck?" he's asking, slipping a little on the uneven sand beneath the water.  
  
"Yep. So get your ass in gear, we've got lifting to do," James replies, taking the harness back when he's on the packed sand and shouldering it, jogging toward Carlos. The other three follow and when they are close enough they find Carlos has his arm shoved—  
  
"Holy shit!" Jeremy blurts, turning wide eyes away from the sight. "You didn't tell me he was going to be—"  
  
"Shut up," James replies.

"We have to get her back right now," Carlos says urgently, and there is a horrible wet squelching noise as Carlos does something that the intern refuses to think about right now. When he looks back Terry and James are getting the straps around the unconscious animal and they each take a corner.

"Is she going to give birth in the back of the truck?" Vithya asks.  
  
"I don't know. On the count of three. One, two, three!" There's a great heave upward from the four of them, and they manage to get the seal off the ground. Despite how fast they try to move it is still slow-going. Carlos wishes he could half-shift and use his extra strength. "Lift higher, Jeremy!"  
  
"I'm trying, sir!" the intern grunts.

It's agony working her around the end of the rock facing, but the wall is too high for her to be lifted over. Vithya is delagated to keeping her head above the water while the other three take on all of her weight. Soon enough they've gotten her around and up the hill to the waiting truck, and one last heave gets her in the back bed.

Vithya sits at the seal's head and holds it in her lap to keep it from bouncing around, Carlos quickly jumping in the back with them and kneeling at the other end. "James, you know the drill," he says as James slams the tailgate behind him.  
  
"You got it, boss," he replies, making for the driver's seat. He's been with Carlos long enough to know just what speed he can push the vehicle to with medical procedures going on in the back without slinging everything around. The intern makes to take the passenger's seat, but Terry blocks him with an arm. "In the back," he says.  
  
Jeremy blinks owlishly at him. "What?"  
  
"In the back," James says louder, forcefully. "Hurry up, we don't have time, get a move on!"  
  
The intern scrambles to obey, pulling himself up over the edge of the truck and into the bed at the seal's side. James and Terry share a smirk at each other when the passenger door shuts, but then it's all business as James drives and Terry calls ahead on the radio.

The truck has barely reached the dirt access road before Carlos has pulled gotten the seal rolled on her side and pulled a dozen or more medical supplies from his bag, a scalpel being main among them that Jeremy gapes at. "What are you doing? What is he doing?" he asks, holding onto the side of the truck as they bounce up over a rock.  
  
Carlos, who is normally more than willing to slip into teaching mode, seems disinclined to answer and Vithya has no interest in playing babysitter for the moment. There is a sudden gush of liquid—a mixture of blood and birth fluids that turns the floorboards of the truck bed a murky scarlet brown. "Shit shit shit," Carlos mutters, grabbing a wad of gauze to clean what he can see.

"M-m-maybe the sedative re-re-relaxed her muscles so you don't have to-to—oh my God, what is _that, is that the head?"_

"Don't you dare pass out," Vithya snaps, reaching out to push Jeremy back when he lists to one side, unsure if it is because of the centrifical force on the truck or because he is suddenly a lot paler.

Carlos has no time for interns with no constitution or fortitude. He's got the clean end of gauze held between his teeth so he can work with both hands. A few quick and well-placed cuts later, the lifeless pup slides free of its mother.  
  
Vithya tries to sit up so she can see, but the bulk of the seal blocks her view. "It isn't making any noise! Is it breathing?"

"Fuck." Carlos drops the scalpel and lifts the heavy limp animal into his lap. It is still warm to the touch, but a press of fingers to several pulse points finds nothing. He cannot tell if the pup's heart stopped beating a minute or days ago. Quickly he uses the gauze and his fingers to clear the airways of the nose and mouth, then starts chest compressions with one hand. "Come on, come on," me murmurs to the pup.

"Dr. Ramirez, it isn't—it's dead, isn't it?" Vithya blurts, voice ratcheting up in volume and pitch. She cradles the unconscious mother's head and tries not to start crying, but she can feel herself welling up. "I'm sorry, mumma, I'm sorry..."

Next to them, Jeremy is watching avidly as Carlos presses firmly on the pup's abdomen, trying to jump start its heart. He's never so much as been out in the field since he started working there, it has only been a month, and here he is right up close to a wild seal and one of the most prolific scientists in the field trying to save—

Then Carlos lifts the pup's snout vertically, and, heedless of the filth and gore still covering it, fits his mouth over the nose and mouth of the animal. His cheeks balloon outward as he blows oxygen in trying to inflate its lungs.  
  
Jeremy's hand, the one not holding an iron grip on the truck bed, flies to cover his own mouth. He heaves once, twice, then turns and retches over the side of the truck.  
  
"Are you fucking serious right now?!" Vithya shouts, but Jeremy is too busy losing the contents of breakfast to answer. She turns her attention back to Carlos, who is alternating between chest compressions and trying to breathe life back into the animal on his lap. Four breaths, four compressions, repeat.   
  
_"COME ON!"_ he shouts when he pulls his mouth free. Four more presses, then breaths again.

Vithya reaches for one of the unopened bags and pillows the mother's head on it so she can move freely, climbing over and kneeling so she can sew up the incision that Carlos made. A trained doctor she is not, but stitches she can handle. Carlos has already shown her how to do this in a rehab setting, and now that they're on the main road to MBARI she thinks she can handle it without messing up. Besides, it is the only way she can keep from freaking out screaming or sobbing in the corner. The mother needs care, too, and she can do this much.

He pushes another gust of air down the animal's throat and suddenly there's a small cough, followed by a raspy yet audible intake of air as the seal pup takes its first breath, the compressions having started its heart back up. "There you go! There you go, little guy!" Carlos laughs, rubbing a hand vigorously over its back as he flips it over, getting the blood flowing and making it easier for it to breathe.

A few tears slip past Vithya's control. "Oh thank the gods," she gushes, so relieved. She has seen animals die, even some under Dr. Ramirez' care, but never anything like this. Nothing ever this personal and desperate.

After that, it seems like only minutes before they're pulling up to the med-bay along the side of the building and a group of their colleagues coming out to take over. Carlos hands the newborn down to Miranda, and another holds a hand out to help Carlos down from the truck. "The female needs to be tended to immediately. Possible bacterial infection and internal scarring. The pup needs testing for the same and fluids. Use formula, no mother's milk until we're certain she's not carrying something."

"We'll take it from here, boss," Miranda replies with a nod. James and Terry help pull Jeremy from the back, Terry leading him off while James oversees the movement of the mother onto a rolling table gourney. It is a whirlwind of orders and movement that leaves Carlos and Vithya in the wake, standing by the filthy truck, blood and birth fluids dripping from their hands and smeared into their knees and in Carlos' case around his mouth. He spits onto the concrete at their feet and Vithya makes a high hysterical noise, lifting her hands toward her face but having to stop herself. There's nothing to block the tears from streaming out in relief.  
  
"Hey. Hey, it's alright," Carlos says, trying to soothe her. When she turns her eyes on him and they widen dramatically, he looks down at himself. Ah, yes, he probably looks frightful at this point. "Come over here," he says, leading her to the utility sink along the far wall. He hands her a large wad of paper towels before using one to turn on the tap.  
  
"I'm just so happy that they're going to be okay!" she squeaks out, trying to sop up some of the sticky substances before getting her hands wet. "I thought it was—and then Jeremy just—"

"I know. Wash up first," Carlos replies. Now that the urgency of the situation has passed, the scent and taste in his mouth is overwhelming, and he desperately needs to wash it out. He twists his head to the side and tries to wipe his face on the shoulder of his windbreaker, but all it does is smear it around. As soon as Vithya gets most of the filth from her hands she moves so Carlos can wash. Instead of wetting his hands he dunks his whole face under the stream of water and opens his mouth, sucking in the cold water and spitting it out several times before washing with soap.  
  
"Sorry," she says, realizing she probably should have let him go first. Her mind had not been in the right place for that.

Dr. Hilda Cole, assistant head aquarist in charge of invertebrates and Carlos' equal on staff, comes flitting through the room headed towards the boxes stacked near the entrance. She slows when she catches sight of them. "Hell, Ramirez, you alright? That's not your blood, is it?"  
  
He spits one more time into the sink and turns a brilliant smile on her. "Right as rain, Hilda." She just wrinkles her nose at him.  
  
"Why is it half the time I see you, you're covered in blood?"  
  
"Because I lead an insteresting life?"  
  
"Or something like that," she replies flatly, turning back to her previous task. "Put on something that doesn't look like you killed the innocent in it, and I'll let you take a sneak peak at the new tanks."

"The ones for the new exhibit?" Carlos asks, scrubbing at a bit of blood that dried high on his arm. Oh, that's his own blood. When did that happen?

"Yeah. We introduced the animals in today. They're all getting acquainted with their new surroundings."  
  
"I'll be there in a bit," he replies, yanking the loose hair tie from his hair and pulling it tighter.

"Take your time. You drag blood up onto my nice clean exhibit and I'll end you."  
  
"Yes, dear," he drawls. Once Hilda disappears back into the main building, Carlos turns to Vithya, all traces of humor gone. "We need to talk."

Vithya's hands pause from where she is pulling off her sullied poncho, her heart practically stopping in her chest for a moment. "We do?"  
  
"Where exactly did you learn that little tactic?" he asks, voice neutral in a way that she cannot really tell is positive or negative.

"You mean the stitches?" she hedges. One look at his face tells her not to bother.  
  
"I mean, trying to lure a seal to your side like a cocker spaniel."

She can feel her face start to turn red. "I didn't learn it. I, uh, basically just hoped it would work?"  
  
His jaw sets hard for a moment. "That was incredibly dangerous," he says firmly. "You had no idea how that seal would react. That was not how I taught you, and that is not what I instructed you to do."

"I just wanted her to come over to me and I didn't have anything to lure her," she argues.  
  
"Since when have we ever used food or anything else to lure an injured seal in the field?" he demands. "Never, that's when. We have gone over how to isolate a wild seal from a colony. You know it has to be corralled, you know you need to stay away from the head, you know you need to keep your distance. You deliberately put yourself in harm’s way—you put yourself between the seal and the ocean! A seal that was already under duress and likely to lash out! If she chose to charge it would have been right at you!"

"I'm sorry," she says, shoulders drawing up in defense. Doctor Ramirez gets upset so rarely, and hardly ever raises his voice at anyone in particular, even if he does get mad and yell at situations. This is a proper chastisement, and she cannot even defend her actions without revealing anything about her true nature. She might know Carlos' secret, but she is not sure she is ready for him to know hers.

He wipes at the slice on his forearm with a paper towel before chucking it in the hazard container by the sink, then pointing at her with the uninjured arm. "Don't ever do that again. Clear?"  
  
Now is the time to get out of this debacle without any more damage to her career. Vithya's head bobs quickly. "Yes sir."

"Get cleaned up and back to your normal duties."  
  
Carlos follows her by half a hallway length before they separate at the locker rooms. He is not pleased by what he sees in the mirror, but another quick wash in the sink with a hand towel gets the rest of the residue from his features. A change of clothes, brushing his teeth twice and a vigorous hair combing to work the frizz from his hair later and he feels if not fresh then at least not grimy.

Terry stops him in the hall and lets him know that the mother seal has just been taken back for surgery but Dr. Wallace was handling it. Carlos' first instincts are to go straight down to surgery and scrub in, but Wallace is quite capable of handling anything that might arise without him crowding the table. They have a polite truce not to intrude on each other's surgeries unless it is something major, and this hardly constitutes major emergencies.

So instead he thanks Terry and winds up through the aquarium to the cephalopod rooms, currently closed in preparations for the new exhibit aptly named Tentacles. Al and Hilda have been keeping as tight a lid on the upcoming exhibit as possible, the open entryway covered with a sheet pulled tight, a projector playing a looping video of the Tentacles logo and vague tentacle shadows moving through the water behind it. They've also had to endure the loop of music playing along with it, and mysterious it might have seemed at first but three months in the score has lost a lot of its impact, at least with the aquarium staff. As annoying as it is now, to the visitors passing by the room it promises something big lurking just beyond the divide, and also covered some of the sounds of construction.

When Carlos slips behind the fabric divider, his jaw drops. The last time he had been in the room, everything had been a stark white or unpainted gray concrete, ladders had been set up all over, the areas where the tanks would be set were nothing but vague shells unready to be filled, and one of the workers had just dropped a very expensive light fixture onto the very hard floor, shattering the light as well as Al's temper for at least three days.

Now, the smoothed-down walls flow seamlessly into the glass of the tanks, not a sharp angled corner in the room to really give the feel of being underwater. They must have gotten the lighting situation under control, because the room is dark save for strategically placed mood lights of aqua blue and warm gold, highlighting the tanks and the information placards. A majority of the light comes from the glow of the tanks themselves. The once barren tanks are filled with clear blue water, the insides covered with both real and simulated coral structures and a sandy covering at the bottom. Long strands of kelp grow along the sides and back of some of the tanks for certain animals, while others are more open and unobstructed.

Most of the tanks are filled with cephalopods. Caribbean reef octopus, day octopus, the Wunderpus (Carlos will never not love the ridiculous names that some species are bestowed by their scientist discoverers), bigfin reef squid, hawaiian bobtail squid, all with their own habitats or sharing with a few fish that they can exist with peacefully. There's a large concave enclosure that you can step into and be surrounded by thousands of baby octopi which at this stage Carlos cannot identify the species of. Pharaoh, stumpy, and flamboyant cuttlefish float happily around their own large tank, and a chambered nautilus shoots past Carlos' view as he watches another bonk lazily against the side of the tank, testing its boundaries.

Dominating the room is the central tank, an in-the-round floor to ceiling structure for three hundred and sixty degree viewing. And inside is the giant Pacific octopus that Hilda has talked about non-stop for the past six months. He must be at least a hundred pounds, though Carlos thinks trying to gauge the weight of an octopus by sight is an exercise in physics he is not at all ready for. A brilliant umber orange at the moment, the octopus is using its long arms to explore its new home while Hilda and the other members of her team stand around and babble excitedly about it.  
  
"Nice to see where all our money is headed," Carlos teases as he strolls up.  
  
"Oh stop!" Hilda laughs, smacking his arm once before grabbing and pulling him up to the glass.  "You've got an exhibit that's halfway open to the bay, and your rescue program, I think you have enough babies—spread the wealth to the rest of us who don't work with the cute and fuzzies. Now look! What do you think?"  
  
"It's gorgeous, you've all really outdone yourselves," he says sincerely, having to crane his neck back to look up at the octopus from this close. "So this is him?"  
  
"This is my Goliath," she beams, squeezing Carlos' arm in excitement.  
  
"The last time I saw him he was a fourth the size," he comments.  
  
"He's finally gotten his big-boy tank!" Hilda and Carlos walk the circle around the tank to take it in from all angles. "I've got Wilhelm readying food for him now. You can watch if you have time."

They all hear a metallic noise from the top of the tank. Leaning forward, Carlos can see a hatch from the top open and the undulating form of Wilhelm silhouetted from the light beyond. From Carlos' other side, Santos elbows him. "You're gonna love this."  
  
"Octopi are intelligent, curious and _very dextrous_ ," Hilda says as three mason jars drop into the tank from the open hatch. "We had to reinforce and triple lock his tank so he won't escape, even moreso than the other octopi on exhibit. And they need to be kept engaged to stay healthy, so dinnertime is a puzzle."  
  
Carlos steps closer, crossing his arms to watch the proceedings inside. The mason jars have three different colored lids all screwed tight. Goliath swims around the first jar as it bobs in the water from the air trapped inside, using his long tentacles to investigate the red-rimmed object. "Are those glass, or...?"  
  
"No, it's clear plastic. And the lid is attached by that plastic teather that he can't get through. No chance of accidental choking."  
  
Goliath turns the jar over and over between several of his limbs, thinking through how to get to the hidden morsels inside. It takes only a minute or so before he has figured it out, wrapping a long tentacle around the lid and gripping with the suckers to twist the top off, pressing his form to the opening to eat at the shreds of fish and mush, then moving on to the second jar.  
  
"He made quick work of that one," Carlos says, impressed.  
  
"He's so smart," Hilda sighs happily, like a proud mother. "Other animals would try to break the jar or give up after a while, but he's figured it out. See? Look how much faster he gets once he knows what to do!" Indeed, the three jars are quickly emptied of their contents, and a plastic tipped hook on a stick is lowered down into the enclosure to retrieve them.

"You'll have to have someone on staff just for coming up with new puzzles for him," Carlos comments.  
  
From above them a voice with a heavy German accent echoes down, "Dat iz my job, zir!" Wilhelm waves through the water and glass at them.

"Wilhelm Ritter. Came all the way from Europe to do studies on octopi intelligence. He'll be putting all the octopi through their paces and keeping them happy and healthy mentally," Hilda explains.  
  
"I will do my vest to keep Goliath...ah..." Wilhelm pauses, the disconnected voice sounding eerily everywhere since he is up in the ceiling. "Gelangweilt. Vat is the English?"  
  
"Bored," Carlos supplies, earning a curious look from Hilda but Carlos moves on. "I'll be curious to see how your research goes, Mr. Ritter. Perhaps I'll be able to mine you for ideas with my pinnipeds."  
  
"Danke, zir," he replies.  
  
"Don't even think about stealing my researcher, you sneak," Hilda says, poking Carlos' arm.  
  
"He's MBARI's researcher, you know." But Carlos holds up his hands placatingly and takes a step back. "The exhibit looks impeccable, Hilda. I'm sure it will draw plenty of visitors."  
  
"It better. I've been begging Al for years to get a full exhibit and not just a little shoved in between all the sharks and seals."  
  
"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an injured seal I need to check on."  
  
"You always do," she sighs. "Is it serious?"  
  
"She's in surgery."  
  
Hilda waves a hand at him. "Go on, then. Are you going to be here for the opening?"  
  
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he promises. "Keep a tight lid on this thing, yeah? I don't want to have to work finding a replacement octopus into next year's budget if this one makes a break for it."  
  
"Get out of my exhibit, you ass," she laughs.

Carlos leaves Hilda and her team to the finalization of their exhibit and heads down to the recovery area only to find the mother seal still in surgery. Standing at the window into surgery room one he finds Vithya, hands holding onto the wall below the clear glass watching as Dr. Wallace and two assistants handle surgical steel and gauze. He says nothing as he steps up next to her, the two watching in silence for a few moments. "How are they?" he asks quietly.

"Stable. The mother didn't have an infection, so they're going to let the baby nurse once she's out of recovery. James said they would keep her until she recovered from her stitches, but they wanted to take her to surgery to check for problems with her reproductive system. They just started. Dr. Wallace said it could be any number of things, but he thinks it was her first pup."

"It will be her last," he says, causing Vithya to jerk her head around in surprise to stare at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Her uterus has scarring and cysts. Probably from an infection she had as a juvenille that she managed to recover from but the damage when I checked her was severe. It's a wonder she was able to carry a pup to full term without miscarrying as it was. It must have been very painful." Carlos raises his fist and knocks gently on the window. The three working look up, and Carlos motions for the intercom. While one of the assistants goes over to the wall, Carlos adds to Vithya, "They'll have to do a hysterectomy."

"Are you sure?"

He nods, and when the intercom goes staticky Cecil relays this information to Dr. Wallace. The other doctor nods grimly from behind his surgical mask and thanks him for the information, getting to work. Once the transmission goes dead again, Vithya asks, "Should she even be released? If she doesn't have the urge to mate she might be in danger in the wild if she doesn't respond favorably to a male's advances."  
  
"We'll have to evaluate her temperament. Not all animals that are sterilized lose their sex drive, only about eighty percent," he replies, leaning his shoulder against the edge of the window. "And if that's her only issue, we'll have to release her. We don't have the space for an otherwise healthy animal in the rehab facility or on exhibit. Sometimes you just have to trust that they'll look after themselves once they're gone."

Vithya looks troubled by this, but then a happy jingle buzzes from Carlos' phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, he sees an incoming text from Cecil. He still gets a little thrill every time he sees one from the long haired man.

> _Are the momma and baby ok?  
> _

Carlos frowns down at the screen, confused.

> _How do you know about that?  
>  _

Next to him, Vithya looks over curiously, even more so when Carlos tips the phone screen against his chest and goes back to watching the surgery in progress, clearly not wanting her to catch sight of his messages. A minute later it dings at him again.

> _I was out on the water! I cut out of work early._

He supposes that makes sense. Though he really is not used to seeing Cecil—Gershwin—that far north in the bay. Carlos wonders how far he travels out of the normal areas he has seen the selkie in.

> _> Both in recovery._
> 
> _> Oh good! <3 <3 I was worried when I saw you all run away w/her._
> 
> _> I'll give you details later. We still on for Sunday?_
> 
> _> Of COURSE! I'm bringing Candyland_

Carlos smiles a little to himself at the assortment of candy-themed emojis that follow that text.

> _> If you bring Candyland, you have to bring toddler friendly candy you know._
> 
> _> Gummies work, right? What can I bring 4u?_
> 
> _> Just yourself would make me happy._
> 
> _> UR2 sweet! But what CANDY do u like?_
> 
> _> Chocolate is good._

The next message that comes through is a photo of the inside of a shopping cart, a large bag of gummy worms next to a variety pack of little individually wrapped candy bars. Carlos responds with a smiley face emoji.

> _Can't wait._

"Who are you texting?" Vithya asks at his elbow, startling him with how close she seems to have creeped. She raises an eyebrow at his reaction.  
  
"Nobody," he says automatically in response, pocketing his phone with a faint blush on his cheeks. "You're working this weekend, correct?"

"Uh...yes, sir?" she replies, straightening, worried he's still mad at her from earlier.

"I'm off until Monday," he says, looking in through the window again. "I know we don't have you on any solo projects yet, so I want you to assist the other team members with whatever they're doing and make sure to follow any of their instructions. Do you think you can handle that?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Vithya's whole posture curls in a little, eyes down in defeat, and to Carlos she reads like an animal ready to escape.

That just will not do. "Miller," he says, waiting for her to look up at his face. "You don't have to cower in fear, I'm not going to rip your head off."  
  
"I don't think that," she says immediately, defensively.

"Right. My mistake. But I will be very displeased if you keep putting yourself in danger. Even if I'm not there to see it."  
  
Vithya nods, hands wringing together against the base of the window. "I understand."  
  
"Then buck up," he says amicably, elbowing her a little. "You had your first in-the-field rescue today."  


That does make her smile, nodding more confidently. "That was really something. Could have done without Jeremy barfing."  
  
"Every rescue is unique," he laughs.  
  
"They named him after you, by the way."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Vithya smirks. "The pup. Miranda named him Carlito."  
  
Carlos groans, rolling his eyes. "I've _told_ them not to do that!"  
  
"Well they did! I think it suits him," she laughs, gesturing to the medical chart in the shelf on the surgery door. "They're going to let you name the mother, though."

He walks over and picks up the chart, scanning over the information listed there a moment before removing the pen from the clamp on top and writing _Nadya_ in neat print at the top. Hope seems like a fine name for a fighter like her.


	7. 6 - Lollipop Rebellion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you, dear readers, for waiting so patiently through this hiatus. A lot has been going on and its finally beginning to settle back into a routine. 
> 
> After much anticipation, we present to you Chapter 6! We will do our very best to get out chapters as they're finished and I thank you all again for your patience.

Carlos has never been a steady babysitter for anyone, not even his sisters. However, having over a dozen nieces and nephews, even if you don't see them all the time, will be a learning experience. You cannot listen to a women raising that many children at once talking about her week without gleaning a little information about the subject, especially if said sisters want to talk for over an hour about it on the phone sometimes. Throw in the handful of times he has babysat for coworkers when no one else was available, and Carlos would say he knows a thing or two about taking care of children under the age of ten.

It's a bonus that little Emily Carlsberg is simply a treat to take care of. Adventurous, headstrong but polite, well-behaved and most importantly will be going home to her father at the end of the weekend. Just as Steve had said, her babysitter was waiting Saturday morning at the Carlsberg residence and happily passed her off to Carlos, babbling about some concert she had that evening that she had to start getting ready for.

The bag she packed to give Carlos on the way out the door seems awfully light, though, and when he gets Emily back to the house he finds it devoid of a couple items that most kids need at some point in the day. Luckily this is not Carlos' first rodeo, so what he does not already have at his house he quickly gets at the store.

Saturday is a whirlwind as Carlos decides to get her some fresh air and they end up going down to the wharf where the farmers market sets up every weekend. He is well aware that as much as Steve wants to do things like this with her, he rarely gets the chance. The ongoing custody disputes with his ex-wife mean he only sees Emily half the time, and from what Carlos understands Ex-Mrs. Steve Carlsberg pays about as much attention to Emily when she is there as when she is not.

Emily asks about a million questions about every colorful fruit and odd-shaped vegetable they pass, Carlos with a canvas bag at his side picking out fresh food for the week. He lets her try fresh berries that strike her fancy, laughing with the sour faces she makes and delighted when she decides blackberries are, "yummy!" and buying her a carton. They get waylaid by a set-up at the end of one of the aisles trying to set up dog and cat adoptions, and after Emily pets every single one of the available animals (and Carlos explains to the worker that no, he's just the babysitter, no buying decisions form him thank you) they swing around to an ice cream parlor before heading home.

The next day goes fairly similar, the park in the morning then some indoor playing during which Carlos tries to get some cleaning done. He is almost grateful that Emily is there as a distraction because he does not have time to think himself into a frenzy about Cecil's arrival or why he thought it would be a good idea to have dinner together with a toddler.

In a stroke of genius Carlos puts in Ratatouille about an hour before he has to start dinner, which leads to little Emily Carlsberg insisting that she help. He has a stool next to the counter for her to watch what he is doing, telling her each little step as he makes simple spaghetti with meat sauce and some garlic bread and she is enthralled even if her contributions are limited to sprinkling spices. Just after six, they hear a knock at the door.

"Oh! Let's go see who that is!" Carlos says, scooping her up onto his hip. Her gold pigtails tied in slightly uneven loose braids bounce as he dances her toward the front door. A quick breath to steel himself, he opens it with a smile.

On the other side is Cecil, wearing a long boho skirt and a simple fitted t-shirt, a bag at his side. And he is completely unprepared for the sight that greets him back. The first thing he registers is that Carlos is wearing a t-shirt of his own, faded blue and a little tight across the chest. Cecil did not think Carlos even owned clothes that weren't MBARI polos or wet suits. Then there are the jeans, also a well-worn blue with a hole in one knee. Bare feet. Curly black hair pulled back messily on top of his head. Dear sweet gods, he's wearing an  _apron._ And an adorable little girl is perched on his hip.

"Hi, Cecil," Carlos says with a wide smile. "Glad you could make it."

"Hey," he greets back, holding up his bag. "I brought snacks. And hi there, Princess Emily."

She squirms a little and hides her face against Carlos' shoulder, and Cecil thinks he might melt. Carlos murmurs low to her, "Don't be shy now. Do you remember Cecil? He signed your cast with the pretty crown."

"I brought a game for us all to play together after dinner," Cecil adds, pulling Candy Land out from behind him with his other arm.

"You hear that? A game!" Carlos encourages. That gets her attention and Emily grins and giggles, waving her little hand at Cecil in hello. "Let's let Cecil come inside and sit his things down," Carlos continues, holding the door open for him. Once it is closed, Carlos says, "We're in the middle of cooking dinner, if you'd like to join us."

"I'd love to." Cecil follows Carlos into the kitchen, which is again not what he expected from the living room or the outside of the house. Whereas most of what he has seen from Carlos' home is blues and browns, very natural, the kitchen is painted a bright red. The curtains over the sink are thrown wide to let in the setting sun and the whole place is warm and inviting. Cecil slips the candies onto the table while Emily is distracted by Carlos bouncing her, then takes a seat at the kitchen table. "It smells really good. Is it just meat sauce or did you make meatballs?"

"Emily isn't a big fan of meatballs," Carlos replies, spinning her in a little circle. "So we've got meat in the sauce. Now, where were we." He doesn't bother putting Emily down, instead walking her to the stove. "Let's see, we were about to add a little seasoning, right?"

The little girl nods, and Cecil can see she from where he is sitting that Emily has the fingers of her injured hand tangled in Carlos' hair. So not fair.

"Which one are we going to add?" Carlos asks, running his finger back and forth before three bottles of spices on the counter. Cecil cannot see what they are from where he is sitting, but Emily seems to be considering them with the utmost care. "This one?"

She shakes her head.

"No? Okay, this one?"

She shakes her head again.

"Really, you sure about that?" Carlos asks.

"Uh huh."

"Okay, if you're sure," he says with exaggerated emphasis. He holds his finger over the last bottle. "What about this one?"

She nods hugely.

"This one it is! Okay, here's the bottle...you got it?" She has it in a death-grip with her good hand, but nods again. "Show Cecil how we put in the spices."

The little girl starts to thrash almost violently as she shakes and shakes and shakes the little bottle sending flecks of spice in ever direction. It is safe to say that more gets flung onto the counter around the stove and up into Carlos' hair than into the pot of sauce, but it makes Emily giggle madly. Carlos even shakes with her, making her squeal as he bounces her around. Cecil laughs at the scene from behind his hand, amazed at this side of Carlos he never expected.

"You're going to have it very well seasoned," Cecil says as his chuckles subside. "Do you want to be a chef, Miss Emily?"

"NO!" she shouts, making Carlos wince a little as he picks up the other two bottles and puts in a few shakes from each while she is distracted.

"Then what do you want to be?"

"A bawa-reena," she says, turning to watch Cecil over Carlos' shoulder.

Cecil nods encouragingly. "A ballerina, huh? Do you like to dance?"

Emily nods, kicking out her feet at him. "Lookie." Her little socks are pink and designed to look like ballerina slippers for all that they are cotton.

"Emily is a lovely dancer," Carlos intones. This leads to Emily going off on a tangent, babbling child-talk that they cannot easily follow. The fact that they nod along without comprehending seems to not occur to her, happy to just be in the middle of these two interesting adults that aren't her daddy.

When Cecil takes a deep breath he smells the delicious smells of garlic bread baking in the oven and lets out a humming sigh. "Carlos, your kitchen is so cute. I didn't expect you to have so much red."

"Thank you," Carlos says, stirring the sauce one-handed. "I'm partial to red. What did you expect?"

"Well your house is blue and your living room is all ocean colors." Cecil nods to the cool grey and blue living room, touches of different types of wood everywhere. "It is a little unexpected."

"Madre's kitchen was red, back home. Uh, in Mexico, I mean," he clarifies. "And she was in there all the time, and I would be underfoot, you know? Cooking just reminds me of home and painting it red seemed right. Makes me feel like I'm back there, even if it's just a little."

In a flash Carlos drops the spatula to the side of the pan and snatches Emily's hand as she tries to reach out to the stove. "No no no! No touching things on the stove!" Carlos chastises gently, pulling her little hand up and away. "Muy caliente, very hot. Here, how about you keep Cecil company while I finish, yeah?" He plops Emily down into her high chair at the head of the table next to Cecil, winking at the selkie as he heads back to the stove to check the garlic bread.

This leaves Cecil with a blonde-haired toddler staring at him with her giant blue eyes. "Hi sweetie," Cecil says, scooting his own chair closer to hers. "Did Carlos braid your hair today?"

"Uh huh," she says around a mouthful of her own fingers.

"It was a lot better this morning," Carlos supplies. "We've been a bit rambunctious today."

Cecil can tell. There are little wisps of curl flying all around her face, and the one on the left is higher than the one on the right. Cute, but not up to Cecil's standards. "Would you like me to braid your hair?"

Her eyes zero in on his own long hair, pulled into a loose but neat plait that hangs over one shoulder. "Uh huh," she repeats. "You have purdy hair."

"Why thank you," Cecil grins. "You have pretty hair, too. It's the color of sunshine. Do you have a hairbrush?"

"It's in the bathroom down the hall, I think" Carlos says, moving to go fetch it for Cecil but the other man waves him back.

"I can find it, you cook." The search for the hair brush—a hot pink number covered in glitter with a wavy handle—also gives Cecil the opportunity to snoop in the half-bath that must be for guests. There brush is there on the counter along with a baggie full of hair ties and bows and a purple and orange child's toothbrush. On the floor is a little training potty, and Cecil has to stifle a laugh at the thought of Carlos having to deal with that on top of everything else.

The bathroom itself is blues and neutrals just like the living room, and Cecil figures it is usually less scattered with kid's things. Coming back through the hall he notices that the photos on the walls are all nature-related, landscapes or underwater shots, some of the desert or forests. Not a lot in terms of human subjects, or lycan as the case may be.

Back in the kitchen, Cecil goes about the process of undoing the messy braids and running the brush through Emily's curls. “Does she call you tio or uncle?” he asks.

“TIO!” Emily cries out, wiggling around despite the nice man trying to fix her hair.

Carlos laughs at that, checking the pasta. “Yes, she's learned tio. Though it was Toto at one point.” He gives Cecil a significant look at that, almost daring him to comment on the obvious dog connection.

It is a herculean effort not to, but Cecil just says, “Ironic...and I don't think you'd fit in a basket very well.” He giggles to himself at Carlos' roll of eyes, fixing Emily's hair into a pretty French braid. Carlos is impressed at how straight Cecil gets it in such a short amount of time. “So, you're from Mexico? Like, born there?”

"Sí, señor," Carlos says cheekily. "A little town down south."

"When did you come to the United States, if you don't mind me asking." Cecil ties off Emily's braid "I heard that immigrating is a difficult process."

“It's not easy, no,” Carlos agrees. “I was sixteen when I came to America. I was accepted at University here on scholarship, and never left.” He takes the noodles off the stove and drains the water in the sink. “Took me a few years, but I was a citizen by the time I started junior year.”

Cecil whistles. “Wow.” He has moved back to his own chair by this point and taken his hair down so Emily can play with it. “I've met a few of...uh...well, I've met some  _family_ that have dual citizenship from the UK and Ireland. I can't imagine doing it in a country where you'd need two languages.”

The lycan shrugs. “It's not that hard. I already had a pretty firm grasp on English before leaving home—we learned it back in school.” Using a spoon Carlos gives the sauce a taste and deems it satisfactory, turning the burner down. “It's pretty handy.”

“I'm only fluent in English and seal,” Cecil chuckles unthinkingly. “Is this little one learning Spanish from her tio?”

“Well, a little here and there—”

“YOU TALK TO SEALS?!” Emily asks, loud and right in Cecil's ear.

The selkie's eyes go wide and fly to Carlos, who immediately falls into damage control. “Cecil is very friendly with the seals that swim in the ocean, but he can't understand them, sweat pea,” he explains. To Cecil, he warns, “Emily is very smart for her age.”

“Is she now?” Cecil tips his head back to look at her. The little girl combs his hair with far more care than he would expect from a two year old. “She's going to grow up to be a genius. Does she do daycare?”

“Not that I know of,” Carlos replies. “She has a couple of babysitters during the week while Steve is at work. Her mother keeps her half the time, so I'm not sure what goes on then.”

Looking up at the toddler, Cecil still finds it hard to make the connection between this sweet child and her father, a man that grates on Cecil's nerves more than most. “Steve seems like a protective father,” he says carefully, not ready to allow more than that. Then he looks down at his hair. “Miss Emily, you did such a good job! Do you know how to braid?”

“Nuh uh,” she says, shaking her head. “Tio Ca-los knows.”

Cecil holds up a section of his own hair for her to see. “Let me show you. See, you take a little bit and make three pieces. And they're all about the same? Then you fold them like this.”

Carlos watches for a moment with a warm smile on his face before leaving them to play, preparing three plates of spaghetti—two on normal dinnerware and one in a bright aqua plastic bowl with a pink glitter spork. He even takes the time to cut her noodles into bite-sized pieces and her garlic bread into eighths. By the time he is finished, Cecil has a tiny braid in his hair. “Oh! Looks like it's dinner time!” he says, pulling his hair back over his shoulder and adjusting the little girl in her seat while Carlos puts a plate in front of her. “It looks delicious.”

"Thank you," Carlos says, setting his and Cecil's plates down so that they are on either side of Emily. Strength in numbers when dealing with a child, after all. Plus he can look at Cecil while they eat. "Now Ems, do you want water, apple juice, or tea?"

"Choc-lat milk," she says, picking up her spork.

"Water, apple juice, or tea,” he repeats, a little firmer. “You can have chocolate milk later."

She makes a face but relents. "Appa joos."

"Very good. Cecil, would you like a glass of wine?"

"Just one glass, thank you." Cecil smiles at how well he handles Emily. She has a headstrong quality about her that he's been keeping in check. He also notices that there are a lot of napkins around as a precaution.

"White or red?" Carlos asks, pouring apple juice into Emily's swirly-designed sippy cup.

"White, please." Cecil takes a moment to absorb the situation at hand and has a little rush—they're eating dinner together! A home made dinner! Well, he thinks as he glances at Emily who is very excitedly dipping her bread in sauce, maybe it's not ideal and certainly not what he had always imagined, but it is nice.

Carlos brings Emily's drink over then fetches their glasses, stepping in to set a tall delicate wine glass next to Cecil's plate. "You look lovely today, by the way," Carlos says softly, tarrying just a moment before circling the table.

"Thank you," Cecil mumbles, blushing a touch. "I figured that a long dress was good for sitting on the floor. You look..." _like a hot dad,_ "really cute."

That makes Carlos laugh as he takes his seat across from Cecil. "I doubt that. I feel grimy. I was hoping to grab a shower before you got here but time got away from me."

"You can take one while Miss Emily and I watch a cartoon." Cecil grins at the little girl already making a mess of her cheeks. "I noticed she had DVDs on the table."

"I couldn't do that! We were supposed to play games," Carlos argues.

"We can play games when you're clean. A cartoon isn't that long," Cecil assures him. "We can play a game, have a little snack and then, uh, whatever her usual routine is." At home with the selkie children it is dinner, cartoon, bath and bed but he doesn't want to disrupt whatever Emily's family usually does.

"We'll see how dirty this one gets eating her spaghetti," Carlos says, huffing a laugh when she jams way too much into her mouth and smears sauce all over her face. "Slow down, princess, royalty rushes for no one. Chew your food, you don't want to choke." He has to pull her hand back and make her chew when she tries to get an even bigger spoonful.

Cecil smiles and finally picks up his own fork. "Does she get a bath every night?"

"She does on spaghetti night. I think at home she does most of the time." Carlos watches out of the corner of his eye as Cecil takes a bite of the spaghetti.

The selkie gives a soft humming moan, looking down at his plate with more interest. For a simple plate of spaghetti it is really good, better than he expected. And this is supposed to be his toned-down spaghetti for kids? How good is his normal cooking? He swallows his bite-full and says, “I could give her a bath while you shower if you want,” before eating some more.

Carlos hesitates. "Uh. I don't..." he glances at Emily. "I mean I'm sure it would be fine, but do you think Steve would be okay with that considering...?"

Cecil pauses, then nods. "True! Sorry, at the safe-house we all kind of take care of everyone else's kids, I didn't even think about it! He doesn't know me that well. I suppose your bath will need to wait until after b-e-d-t-i-m-e."

"R-right," Carlos says, flushing a touch.

A good portion of dinner is spent with Carlos wrangling Emily back into eating properly, though they do manage to get some conversation in. Emily has a lopsided stain of red around her mouth and cheeks and more than enough sauce all over her hands. "Someone is most definitely ready for bath time," Carlos laughs when they're done.

Cecil gets to his feet. “Go get her cleaned up and I'll wash up in here. Do you keep the leftovers?”

“You don't mind?” Carlos asks, hesitating. He feels bad knowing that Cecil will be stuck with the clean-up.

"Its nothing," Cecil says, waving the comment away. "I do dishes at home all the time. I just need to know where your Tupperware is."

"The bottom cabinet, over there," he nods, lifting Emily from her chair. "Come on, princess, you're not allowed to touch anything until you're clean." Of course his shirt doesn't count in that statement because Emily immediately has a sticky hand gripping it. He'll have to change that at least. "We'll be out in twenty."

Cecil giggles as he watches the lycan carry the toddler out of the kitchen, then gets to work putting the leftovers into two separate containers, one the perfect size for Carlos to take to work the next day for lunch. He hums and sways a little as he moves about the kitchen before taking up the space at the sink to do the dishes. It's a homey little kitchen, comfortable and warm with little touches here and there. A smattering of silly magnets on the fridge. A little cactus in a cute teal pot on the window sill over the sink. A wooden box by the fridge that looks like a recipe box. Curious, he lifts the lid and indeed, there are little index cards written in Carlos' neat print and a few in a curling script that he doesn't recognize, even more so when he reads that the words are in Spanish.

Moving into the living room after he's done, Cecil can hear splashing from down the hall. It gives him time to look around the space, and the first thing that he notices is the books. So many books, everywhere. Shelves along the walls are crammed full. A coffee cup still sits on the coffee table from that morning, a hard-cover next to Emily's toys. The couch is well-worn and comfy looking with a cotton quilt thrown on the back. The television is small; Carlos doesn't strike him as someone who watches a lot of TV. Though there is a nice little collection of movies on the shelf beneath it.

Cecil quickly sets up the board game on the floor, not wanting to waste time with that later. They lost a few of the characters a few years back so Tamika made new ones out of paper—a gingerbread boy and girl, a pink lollipop, a swirly sucker and two little seal figures that Cecil leaves out. After fetching the candy from the kitchen, Cecil wanders to the bookshelf that takes up the back wall near completely.

There's books about science and the ocean, nothing that Cecil didn't expect as he runs his hands over bound journals. Some fiction, classics mixed with science fiction titles Cecil has never heard of. There are a lot of leather-bound books full of mythology, bestiaries that humans would consider fiction but shifters like he and Carlos would consider filled with at least half-truths. Nothing specifically about lycans that he can see, and Cecil wonders if he keeps books like that somewhere else. Then, something catches his eye.

On the side nestled in among larger volumes is a slender book. The leather it is bound in looks more like velvet. With a shaky hand Cecil pulls the book free and his eyes widen as he gazes down, hardly believing it. But it is. It's sealskin. He quickly opens the book and is blown away; it really is!

_Orkneyjar_ _Tales._ Cecil has only ever seen one other copy of it, and that was sitting on a shelf in their safe-house in Josie's private room. A collection of what humans would consider childrens stories but contain an assorted history of the selkies and their oral tradition, handed down for centuries. The book itself isn't in pristine condition, but it's close. A little wear on the edge of some of the pages, a little water damage, but nothing major. And thin delicate writing done in black ink in some of the margins in a language that Cecil can't read. He doesn't think it's their own, but perhaps something similar? Gaelic?

In the back are folded pages of notebook paper, thin in the way they get after a few years. There's a lot of carefully written translations in neat lines in what he thinks might be Carlos' hand. The stories of his people transcribed painstakingly. Did Carlos really do this?

Cecil takes a few pictures of the book to show Josie later. He isn't sure how he will begin to bring it up to her, when he gets the chance, but she will want to know. The book looks like it was bound by hand by the selkies themselves. How could Carlos have gotten this? They usually guard their lore very carefully. A look around shows more books on the subject, a neat little row of eight, though he's sure there is information in some of the compendiums he sees. Carlos might know more about his kind than some of the other selkies in the colony!

He is distracted when a very small body crashes into his legs and clings to his skirt. Cecil looks down and smiles at Emily who is looking up at him with wide eyes and wet curly hair in a sparkly green nightgown with Ariel on it. "HI!" she squeaks, making grabby hands up at him. "Play?"

"Yes!" Cecil quickly puts the book back where he found it on the shelf and lifts her up, carrying her over to the game set up on the floor and folding his legs beneath him. "You wanna pick your character?"

Emily gleefully picks the gingerbread girl and Cecil is just wondering where Carlos has gotten to when he comes in, his hair now loose and a little damp and curling at the ends. He's changed into another t-shirt, this one a darker gray with little stitching along the edges but much cleaner than his previous shirt. "So, what are we playing again?" he asks, sitting down on the floor next to them.

"Candy Land." Cecil smiles. He's picked the pink lollipop for himself. The cards are quickly shuffled, hoping Carlos doesn't notice that they are a little worse for wear.

"Uh, sure," Carlos says, taking the other lollipop. "How do you play this?"

"You've never played?" Cecil asks, shocked as he puts the little deck on the middle of the board

"No? Is it really popular?" Carlos asks.

"Yes!" he giggles. "But its very easy. You have your little character and we each take turns picking a card." He holds up a card to demonstrate. "Then you go to the first square on the path that's the same color as your card."

"And what's the objective?" Carlos asks, looking over the board.

Cecil taps on the candy castle at the end of the path. “To get to the end first."

"Alright," Carlos nods, settling down and resting himself a little closer to Cecil. "Princesses go first, I think." He looks around the room over Emily's head. "Now, where are there any princesses...."

"MEMEMEMEME!" Emily shouts, waving her cast in the air.

"Oh, there's a princess!" Carlos says excitedly, looking down at her like he is surprised to see her. “I guess that means you get to go first!”

Cecil laughs as she picks up a green card and squeals because it's SIX whole spaces forward. "Who should go next, Princess Emily?" There proceeds to be a long drawn out process of eeny meenie miney mo that has more parts to it than any version Cecil has ever had to suffer through, but it all ends on Cecil just the same. He picks a yellow card and moves forward a single square.

Carlos selects his card and it's blue, moving him forward four. "Ceec, you gotta catch up! Falling behind!" he teases.

"It's all in the luck of the draw," Cecil argues as Emily picks another card.

"Nuh uh," she argues, scooting forward to a red square.

"No?" Cecil gets ahead of Carlos with a pink card, smirking at him as Emily talks.

"Daddy says I'ma da best at Candy Layund, cuz I alwayz beat him," she says, watching as Carlos gets a pink card too and they end up sitting together on a square.

He smirks a little. "Yeah? You must be very good." To Carlos he asks, "When is her dad coming back?"

"Tomorrow morning. His plane got delayed," Carlos says softly. Emily takes another three steps forward along the path.

"Oh. That's too bad." Cecil doesn't show Emily his card and moves to a space behind her so she stays in the lead. “I'm sure he's eager to get home.”

Carlos smiles and hums in agreement, picking up his next card. He doesn't even need to hide it and moves forward one square. "So, Em-em's is gonna stay with me one more night. How's that sound?"

"Tio Carlos, will you read to me?" she asks.

"Of course I will, sweet pea," he smiles.

"Where does she sleep?" Cecil hasn't gotten a good look at the rest of the house but he doubts that this is a three bedroom home or that Carlos' office is what one might call liveable.

"In da bed," she says matter-of-factly.

"I don't really have much room," Carlos admits, a little embarrassed. "And Steve would rather she not be in here alone all night with all my stuff around."

"Aw!" he laughs. "That's cute! At least she'll feel safe since she's not alone in a strange house."

"Y-yeah," Carlos agrees. They do another round of movement before he continues, "To tell you the truth, it was easier when she was young enough to not remember everything," he murmurs. "I could curl up around her and she'd doze right off."

Cecil considers that image: the big dark wolf from the beach, large and intimidating, curled around a little sleeping baby as her protector. Like something out of a fairy tale.

Cecil smiles. "So, have you known her since she was born?" He's had his fair share of little ones want to snuggle and have him read to them, then promptly fall asleep on him. It is endearing that Carlos has the same experience with little ones.

"Ah, yeah, he was actually on assignment with us when her mother went into labor," Carlos chuckles. "It was faster just to drive him to the hospital ourselves than go back for his car. So Emily met me, James and Miranda from behind that little window they keep the babies behind."

"Huh?" Emily asks, confused by their conversation but hearing their name.

"Nothing, just talking about when you were a little one," Carlos says.

"Nuh uh."

"Yuh huh."

"Nuh UH!"

"Yuh HUH!" Carlos pulls on one of her braids and she squeals, waving her good arm at him.

They play two games before it becomes obvious that the full tummy and bath are getting to her. Emily starts to lean into Carlos' warm side and her eyes get heavy. "You ready for a story?" Carlos asks her. She nods and he helps her stand. "Brush our teeth, first." She waddles off toward the bathroom and he pauses at the entrance of the hall. "It shouldn't take ten minutes..."

Cecil nods and cleans up the game while Carlos goes to help her brush teeth and change into a pull-up for the night. He picks up the game pieces and chooses a book to skim through while Carlos puts her to bed. He can hear Carlos' voice murmuring from the bedroom as he reads one of her books to her, little stresses in his voice here and there for the important parts, but he doesn't read long. Soon enough he is sneaking back out, closing the door to a crack and returning to the living room. "Hey," he greets with a little sigh. "Sorry, I know it wasn't really great but—"

"No, no its fine." He puts the book down and pats the cushion beside him. "You're so sweet with her."

Carlos eases down next to Cecil, a little more nervous than before now that Emily is tucked away in the bedroom. But the easy banter and relaxed evening make it less burdening. "Thank you.”

There is a bit of an awkward silence then, now that the distraction of a child is not between them. Cecil casts around for something to talk about and blurts out the first thing he thinks of. “You have a lot of books.”

Carlos glances at the walls around them. “I guess I do have a bit of a collection.”

“Have you read them all?”

“A good deal of them, yeah.” Carlos reaches out and grabs the one he left open and face-down on the table earlier while he had been sipping his coffee, flipping it shut and sitting it down correctly. “I need to go through them sometime and get rid of the ones I don't like, but I find it so hard to get rid of books.”

“There's a lot of old looking ones up there,” Cecil says, looking up at the shelf. His eyes keep straying to the sealskin volume on the right, even as he tries not to look right at it. “Where did you get them all?”

“Here and there. Used book stores, the occasional yard sale. You'd be surprised what you can find—what?” He looks up to see Cecil staring at him aghast. “What?”

“You found them at  _yard sales?_ ” he asks, incredulous.

Carlos frowns, thoroughly confused. “Yeah? Lots of people get rid of old books at yard sales.”

“You found  _Orkneyjar_ _Tales_ at a yard sale!” Cecil repeats shrilly, actually waving his hands around with how wrong that is. “Someone _sold_ Orkneyjar Tales to just anybody! It could have ended up in a dumpster somewhere! In a landfill!?”

It takes Carlos a moment to grasp where the conversation has gone, and then he narrows his eyes. “You were snooping.”

“Well,  _yeah!_ But that's not the point!”

Carlos shakes his head, the faintest eye roll, but he is chuckling. “Calm down, I didn't get it at a yard sale.”

Cecil bites his lip, watching as Carlos goes to the shelf and retrieves the book before returning to the couch. He sets it on his thigh between them so Cecil can see it too. “You didn't?”

“No. You could have just asked about it, you know.”

“How did you get this?” Cecil asks, reaching out to touch the sealskin with delicate fingertips. The lycan holds it steady for a moment before opening the cover to the carefully penned illustration on the title page.

“I'm always on the look-out for shifter lore,” Carlos says as they admire the ink of the page, the striking black with the much more faded blue. “Or, mythology as humans call it. I was up in Washington at one point and...well, where I was on the coast there wasn't much to do on my days off. Sometimes I would go to estate sales looking for books. An elderly woman passed away that had a big collection of them, and I found this in the stacks. Her son said he didn't know anything about it and gave it to me at a good price.”

“He didn't even know what he had,” Cecil sighs, feeling a little twist in his gut at the thought. “His mother might have been a selkie, for all he knew.”

“It's possible. But I could recognize it was special, so I snagged it while I could. Didn't realize how special until now.”

Cecil turns the pages to the ones in the back. “And you translated it, too.”

“You really did snoop,” Carlos laughs, pulling out the notebook pages and unfolding them. “I don't think they're very accurate, but I did my best with the internet for help.”

“Don't feel too bad; I can't read Gaelic either, even though Josie wanted me to learn,” Cecil laughs. “I can recognize a few words but I never got the hang of it.” His eyes scan over the words on the page, wondering how often Carlos rewrote them because of mistakes. “They're not all true, of course, but there's plenty in here that is.”

“I figured, since you're on land right now and all,” Carlos teases, getting a little smack to the arm from Cecil.

“I just can't believe you have a copy,” Cecil says, shaking his head. “I've only ever seen one other copy. These are supposed to be kept guarded and secret, and here you have one sitting in your living room.”

Carlos taps the corner with a light finger. “I'll move it to my fire-safe in the bedroom, if you want. I've got a handful of my own books in there, and this one is small enough to fit.”

Cecil raises an eyebrow and looks up at him. “Your own books? Like, lycan books?”

“Yeah...we can look at those some other time, if you'd like.”

“I would like,” Cecil says, smiling coyly. Especially if that means they are in the bedroom when they look at them. “I guess having a toddler asleep in your bed is reason enough not to now.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, setting the book on the table in front of them. “Sorry again, about tonight. The Steve thing was unexpected.”

“Honestly, it's fine! I had a great time! She's adorable,” Cecil insists, patting Carlos' arm and letting it linger there. “I didn't expect you to be so paternal.”

“I don't know about that! But you're one to talk. You've got a way with kids, too."

"There's a lot of kids in the safe house." Cecil chuckles "I get a bit of practice."

"I...you asked me if I had kids, but I didn't even think to ask...." Carlos raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

Cecil blushes high in his cheeks. "Oh! Uh, no. None of my own."

“You said the safe-house? I think you brought that up before. What is that?”

“Ah, that's where we all live,” Cecil says, waving his hand. “Where you dropped me off before. The colony lives there.”

What an odd term to use for your home. “The whole colony? That must be a pretty big place,” Carlos says, surprised. Cecil mentioned that the colony was pretty impressive, over fifty members.

“Well, okay, not everybody, I guess. Half of the colony lives in the neighborhood around us, but if you don't have a family or financial means we all sort of live in the safe-house together. Strength in numbers and all that.”

Carlos hums noncommittally at that. It has been years since he has felt anything like that, but he does not want to bring the mood down. "Do you have your own space at the, uh, safe-house?" he asks. 

And maybe it's just how laid-back and easy the evening has been, but the words that come out of his mouth next come completely unchecked. "I share a room with Vithya," Cecil says. "I used to share with a few others but they got their mates and moved to be with them."

Carlos stares at him for a long moment, and Cecil isn't sure why he looks so surprised until he says with full disbelief, "....Vithya?"

Cecil realizes his mistake and his mouth falls open, mind stalling on an answer before he bites his lip. “Uh, what I mean is, uh...maybe we...know two different Vithyas?”

But the damage is done, their calm evening crashing to a halt. Carlos is already standing and pacing, the implications presenting themselves to the forefront of his mind. "Vithya is a—but-but—she—" He turns and looks at Cecil incredulously. "That's how she got that seal to come to her, and to stop when she told it to! She could understand it, and it could understand her, and—!"

"Now, Carlos, calm down,” Cecil says, trying to reach out for his hands but Carlos simply points at him accusingly.

"You, you said you were surprised there weren't more selkies at the aquarium. Not that there weren't any, but more. I didn't even—and she's been asking about the database, no wonder she was asking about the database! And—" And then he stops, eyes going even wider and body going stock still. "Does she know about me, Cecil?"

"No!” Cecil blurts before he can even think about it. The lie comes easily, but he will have to feel guilty about that later. “No one knows about you! I'd never tell anyone about you without your consent."  
  
Carlos' shoulders slump and he covers his face, taking a deep calming breath. "Good...that's good." He looks up at Cecil again. "Because, I mean, she can't know. She can't. This needs to stay between us. If she finds out, it's a huge conflict of interest. It could be used as blackmail, she could get whatever she wanted from the aquarium and I wouldn't be able to stop her, I couldn't risk—" he cuts himself off and breathes again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice."

When he finally focuses completely on Cecil's face there's a lot of hurt there, not what he was expecting. "You think that poorly of her?” Cecil asks, voice tight. “That she would do something like that? I mean now you could do the same thing to her, if you so desired."

He cows his head a little, but stays firm. "I don't know her personally, Cecil. I know her as an employee and a researcher. I would feel this way about anyone finding out about me. Hardly anyone here in America knows my situation. I'm a lot more vulnerable here than you realize."

“That doesn't mean you can just accuse her of something like that!” Cecil says, struggling to keep his voice even. He doesn't want Emily to wake up because they argue. “You don't know anything about her!”

“And you don't know anything about me!” Carlos returns, his own voice turning sharp and making Cecil flinch. The reaction is enough for Carlos to check himself, wincing at his tone. He runs a hand through his hair; it seems the good mood of the evening was destined for ruin. "I'm sorry if I offended you. It wasn't my intention."

Cecil nods stiffly. "I guess...maybe I should go."

Carlos' heart drops as he stares at Cecil. "You don't—I didn't—” He sighs. “If..if that's what you want.”

The selkie gathers his things quickly before standing with his bag clutched against his stomach between them. "I just...Vithya is my family. It kind of hurts that you said that about her," Cecil says as he looks away from the lycan.

Carlos swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

“I know." It falls silent between them and Cecil fiddles with his dress. "But she doesn't know so you're the one with the advantage here."

"I have no reason to hold that against her," Carlos says firmly. "I promise you, she'll never know I know, or be in any danger from me. I swear it."

The silence stretches between them again and Carlos knows he's blown it when Cecil turns for the door. "I should get going," he says quietly. "I had a nice time tonight."

His throat closes up as Cecil opens the door out to the night. His bicycle is leaning against the post of his tiny porch, and he watches with trepidation as Cecil throws his leg over the side and points toward the road. He isn't going to cry in front of the selkie, he has has to force it down. "I'm sorry I ruined—I'm sorry," he says again, voice rough.

"Its okay." It isn't okay, it isn't at all, but Cecil has to get away. He has to think. He gives Carlos a small smile that doesn't meet his eyes. "I suppose I'll see you around?"

Carlos nods, forcing himself to look Cecil in the eye. He hates that he put that forced smile on Cecil's face. "Yeah," he agrees. He waits until Cecil is out of sight before closing the door softly, sinking down onto the floor at its base and hating himself all the more.

 


	8. 7 - Texts, Treasures and Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sorry for the long wait for this chapter! Thank you to all of the wonderful readers who have stuck around as we try to keep this story going. 
> 
> Wyntera is going through personal troubles at the moment-- her brother needs open heart surgery to correct some congenital defects. She will be taking care of him as he recovers and future chapters may be delayed as a result. 
> 
> Please send Wyntera's family positive thoughts-- you can send her messages of support on her blog (wyntera.tumblr.com) and, of course, in the comments below.
> 
> Thank you again for your continued patience and please enjoy the newest chapter

Cecil does not take the direct route back to the safe-house. At the end of Carlos' street he stops and turns in his seat to look back at the little blue house in the distance, dark save for the little porch light that does not put out near enough light. The whole place looks a lot more lonely than it did in the daylight.

Pedaling down to the beach, he walks his bike along the water's edge as he waffles between being angry and upset. This is not at all how he thought the start of his relationship with Carlos would be. To think that Carlos would think so lowly not only of a fellow shifter, but a member of his own colony. Vithya is practically family, like a cousin or a sister, and he jumped to such negative conclusions without any provocation.

Well, yes, it _is_ true that Vithya was trying to get access to the study results of the colony. And yes, if she did she _was_ supposed to change the data to throw humans off their scent. But he didn't know that for sure!

His fury mixes with a sudden stab of guilt in his gut and he feels a fresh wave of hot tears burn at his eyes. They linger as he finally makes his way back to the sidewalk and all the way back to the safe-house where he slips quietly up the stairs. While he takes a shower he repeatedly tells himself that Carlos will either call or he won't, and that it should not matter to him one way or the other after the way he talked. But after his pajamas are pulled on and he lays curled silent in the bed, he somehow finds himself palming his phone and running his fingers restlessly along the edge.

Was he too hard on Carlos?

The phone gets put on his bedside table and he tosses and turns, searching for a sleep that eludes him as doubts pull at him. He finds himself looking through the darkness at the bed across from him, Vithya sleeping deeply in a little cocoon of blankets, none the wiser to his internal dilemma. It just makes him feel worse. Not only did she plan to do exactly what Carlos had guessed, but Cecil had lied to him about her knowing about Carlos' lycanthropy. And while his assumption that she would use it against him is false, is it fair to tell him he has no right to be worried? That the assumption is unfounded?

And Carlos had said no one here knew about him. No family at all in the whole country. No pack to seek comfort in, no pack to have his back if things get tough. No pack that he can just be with and not have to worry about hiding who he is. No one.

Gods, how would he feel if the tables were turned?

Cecil presses a hand to his face as a fresh wave of tears spill over and he tries not to sob all over again. This is terrible. How had he let this happen? He grabs the phone again and faces the wall, curling up so that the light of the phone is not visible when he unlocks the screen. Scrolling through his contacts he finds Carlos' name with the little heart emoji next to it.

He has to make things right.

Fingers tap out the words and hit send before he can second-guess himself.

 

> _I'm sorry._

The responding vibration of his phone in his hand startles Cecil, who had been wiping furtively at his eyes again. He was not expecting an immediate response. Was Carlos still awake? Was he just as miserable as Cecil was now? He blinks to clear his eyes and reads the text:

 

> _> You don't have to be sorry._
> 
> _> I do! I didn't think about your feelings. I was an asshole._
> 
> _I didn't mean to come off as callous._
> 
> _> I know you didn't._

Cecil can see the little icon that means Carlos is typing and stares at it like it is the only thing anchoring him down. An errant snore from behind him just ratchets up his tension—he almost wishes he could shake her awake just so she can be as on edge as he is at this very moment and he won't have to deal with it by himself.

> _It's hard for me to talk about this. I don't trust easily. People don't always react well to finding out. It's safer for them never to know._

The selkie frowns at the words for a long minute before the implications finally click into place with a sense of dawning horror. The caution, the restraint, the knee-jerk reaction, and now these words. A loaded statement if Cecil has ever read one, flashing with bright neon warning lights. Carlos is speaking of  _experience._ He's gone through this before.

If Cecil could curl up any tighter into a ball he would, then roll off to the floor and hide under the bed in shame. At the same time fierce protective anger sweeps through him. Who did such a thing to Carlos? Who would  _dare_ to hurt him like that and make him think he had to hide, enough to not trust even the people that would understand him the most?

It takes Cecil a minute to type his reply because his fingers are trembling more than ever.

> _You don't need to be scared of other shifters. Not the ones from my colony and not of me._

There is a long, agonizing wait after that, long enough that Cecil thinks Carlos has decided not to respond. Long enough for his screen to go dim and Cecil jerks to keep it lit.

> _> I'm not ready for anyone but you to know. Please._
> 
> _> Ok._

Cecil takes a shaky breath, nodding along with his answer. That is fine, perfectly fine. He can tell Vithya to forget he ever brought it up, and he can give Carlos some space. Maybe after a while he can start dropping by the boat again, when it won't bother the scientist. It will be hard to keep his distance now that he knows what it is like to be friends with him, but he can do it if that's what Carlos needs, and—

> _Did I ruin this whole dating thing?_

The noise that escapes Cecil's throat would have been a squeal of shocked delight if he had not managed to choke it down at the last millisecond, but it is still loud and strangled enough that he whips his head around to make sure Vithya is still asleep. Luckily Vithya can sleep through half the house having a tantrum. Turning back to the phone, Cecil can hardly believe the words he reads over and over.

> _No! You didn't ruin anything! I still want to see you. I really like you!_

Maybe it sounds desperate, but Cecil is beyond caring at this point. He just wants to know things are going to be okay.

> _> I really like you too._
> 
> _> I'm not good at this._
> 
> _> It's ok!_
> 
> _> Now that is a lie, I'm awful_
> 
> _> Noooooo! You're wonderful_
> 
> _> Cecil._
> 
> _Well, we'll work on it, it's just a speed bump._
> 
> _> I wish we had made up before you left._
> 
> _> Me too, but its gonna be okay now. We can start fresh next time?_
> 
> _Maybe just the two of us?_
> 
> _> Sounds good!!! <3_

Cecil rolls onto his back with the phone suspended over his face by one arm, watching as little pen symbol moves back and forth as Carlos types on the other end. Now that the immediate issue is resolved, or at least contained, he is more tired than he realized.

> _> We both have to work in the morning I think, and this has been a long night. Can we talk tomorrow? If we're okay?_
> 
> _> We're okay. And yeah, I have to be up in like four hours._
> 
> _> Me too. Sorry to keep you awake..._
> 
> _> I'm sorry, too. Emily didn't wake up did she?_
> 
> _> No, she's none the wiser. I'm curled up on the couch._
> 
> _> Get some rest! We can talk tomorrow._
> 
> _> Okay. Have a good night. ☽_

Tacked on to the end of that one is a little moon emoji that makes Cecil's smile turn soft.

> _Goodnight, Carlos. Goodnight._

* * *

 

The next morning Carlos makes no mention of his date with Cecil when Steve drops by to pick Emily up. He maintains this resolve even though Emily happily babbles to her father about how pretty Cecil's hair is and how she won Candy Land when they played, but the wide smirk that Steve sports before pulling out of the drive is a dead giveaway that he will be interrogating Carlos the very moment he has the chance.

An unexpected medical emergency with one of the seals in recovery takes up most of his morning but also does the job of waking him up more thoroughly than the cold shower he took before work. It means the group trip out on the water he had planned that morning has to be pushed to the next day since his team all have normal duties to do that afternoon, and he finds himself with the rare opportunity to take one of the boats out to a set of smaller barrier islands. It is a place that they know some of the mammals rest, the land just below the water's surface but not big or safe enough to be a safe harbor.

On his way down to the docks Carlos sends off a text to Cecil.

> _I'm headed out on a solo dive, if you're not busy._

Half the town away, Cecil is in the middle of recording a few ads for the show when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. The consummate professional, he makes it through the take without pulling his phone out to check the message, but after that all bets are off. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees the text.

> _> When?_
> 
> _> Leaving now. About a mile south of Cameron Point. The barriers out there?_
> 
> _> For work or pleasure?_

Cecil smirks, setting the phone in his lap and doing another take while he waits for an answer. This Red Lobster commercial is so weird, it is hard for him to keep his composure long enough to get the ad recorded.

> _> Work, but it is a light day. Will probably hang out for a while after._
> 
> _> I'd really like to see you._
> 
> _> I should be done recording soon. See you out there. XOXO_

Carlos laughs a little at that, already on the boat by this point. He's fairly certain that x's and o's represent kisses and hugs, and he hopes that they can progress this relationship so he is actually getting those in person rather than over the phone.

Thoughts of that possibility accompany Carlos as he takes the boat out across the water and down south to the dive spot of the day. Despite the shaky agreement they reached last night on the phone, Carlos did not sleep well. His thoughts were a jumbled mess and he spent half the night tangled in the old quilt his mother sent with him when he left Mexico the first time, but with the dawn came a new resolve. There are things he wants to tell Cecil up-front, things that he knows might chance Cecil's opinions of him and their relationship. It is scary and intimidating, but he needs to make sure there are no more miscommunications between them, and if it is because of cultural differences between their kind then the least he can do is make sure Cecil is informed.

But he also has work to do, so Carlos gears up after setting anchor and is soon swimming down into the depths.

By the time Cecil manages to get out of a surprise meeting with Kevin and Daniel (which he pushes through with the knowledge he can leave right after), get home to grab his pelt and say a quick hello to Josie, and get down to the water it is mid-afternoon. The water is cool and clear, excellent visibility and a perfect day for diving. He takes the opportunity to skim along the ocean floor on his way, weaving back and forth to see if he can snatch a snack of crab or fish. Nothing tasty crosses his path, though he does manage to spot a pretty spiral shell. Thinking Carlos might like it, he picks it up carefully in his mouth and speeds off to find the scientist.

Cecil finds the boat first, which is easy enough. It is the only vessel in sight. Swimming up to the splash deck reveals that the boat is empty, and Carlos must be somewhere below. Diving down, he twirls slowly in the water, looking with his enhanced vision and his mind's eye to spot the lycan. He spots him a little ways away down in the sand near one of the submerged islands, digging with one hand into the sand.

The selkie circles around the island and beaches himself in the shallows, scooting up onto the island above where Carlos' is submerged. Carlos still has not noticed him so Cecil makes a grunting noise, and the scientist jerks his head up and out of the water, air and spray spouting from the edges of his mask as he breathes out in surprise. He pulls the mask and headgear off, laughing. “Moon above! You scared me!”

Cecil grunts again, amused, and his flippers slap the water. The other man pulls himself up onto the barrier so he is not treading water and lets out a soft sigh as he takes in Cecil's form. “Hi.” When Cecil extends his snout over to Carlos hands, he frowns. “What?” The shell is dropped into his outstretched palm before Cecil sits back proudly.

Carlos' face lights up as he looks down at the white and peach shell, oddly spiraled like a little sea tornado. “An anaconda trochus!” he exclaims, holding it up to the light.

The seal ducks his head into his flippers and when he raises it back the pelt has parted like a hood and Cecil's head and shoulders appear, the shift seamless. “You know about seashells, too?” he asks, pulling his braid free.

The change strikes Carlos as extraordinary and leaves him speechless for a moment, too entranced to keep track of the conversation, but he rallies quick enough. “Not a ton, but this one is so interesting! Looks like some sort of spiraled snake,” he says, admiring it again. “Where did you find it?”

“I just spotted it along the way while I was looking for a snack. Poked me right in the nose.” He rubs at his own nose as he talks—that thing has a sharp point. “I liked the colors and, well, I thought you could add it to your shelf of knickknacks.”

“For me?” Carlos asks, flushing a little with warmth.

“Yeah,” Cecil smiles, glancing down. Then he notices a dark object in Carlos' other hand. “What's that?”

“Oh! Take a look.” Carlos holds it out so they can both see. It is black and gray, still covered in gross barnacles that Carlos had been trying to break off. The object is just big enough to fit in the palm of his hand. “I'm not sure. Still trying to figure it out. Tug my glove off for me?”

Cecil takes hold of Carlos' right glove and tugs it free, giving it a little squeeze before letting Carlos fiddle with the little find. “It looks man-made, maybe? It's certainly filthy.”

“I was trying to get these off when you came by,” Carlos says. After a few futile attempts at prying the bigger pieces off he resorts to retrieving a little tool from one of the pockets on his underwater bag and using it like a chisel. Dunking the object in the water a few times and scrubbing with the tool, he finally makes some progress. “I see gold...ish? I think? Ah! Look, there's a design on it, like...what is that...?” They bend their heads over it together. “Filigree?”

“Treasure?!” Cecil asks excitedly.

“I doubt it's pirate booty, if that's what you're thinking,” Carlos laughs, cleaning it more. It does indeed appear to be made of gold, and after finally breaking off a last stubborn barnacle a little latch is revealed. “A locket!” Carlos exclaims triumphantly. 

“Pirates had lockets,” Cecil says adamantly, taking the locket when Carlos hands it over for him to inspect. It is fairly simple with fanned out lines on the outside delicate curls on the edges. The inside is empty, whatever picture that might have been inside long since dissolved in the salt water, and there is no chain attached. “There's nothing in it. Not even an inscription.”

“Someone might have dropped it over the side of a boat. Looks semi-old, maybe sixties? You could try and find out.”

“Do you think it's valuable? We're on the wrong coast for the Titanic...”

Carlos lets out a bark of a laugh. “You do think big, don't you?”

“I've always wanted to find buried treasure,” he admits. “Or any treasure, really.”

The lycan reaches out and curls Cecil's hands over the locket. "Well, here's your first piece."

Cecil looks down at their hands with wide eyes. "But you're the one who found it!" he protests.

"But you're the one it would look good on," Carlos counters, squeezing Cecil's hands around it before letting go.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course,” Carlos says confidently. “Besides, I have my shell," he adds, holding it close and making a show of putting it in one of the protective pouches on his wetsuit belt.

“I'm not sure that's quite the same...and it would look good on you, too,” Cecil says, making Carlos laugh again. The selkie puts his little bit of buried treasure in the Velcro pocket of his swim trunks and turns his attention back to Carlos. "Are you done working?"

"Not really, but there isn't much to see here anyway," he says with a sigh, looking around. "There might be more stuff down there but all just random bits and bobs that the current has caught here. I'll plot it for someone else to come check out some time, but nothing helpful to the aquarium."

“How is work?”

“Not too bad. We had a seal rip his stitches this morning that I had to deal with, and we're a little short staffed since more people will be on schedule this weekend.”

"You guys are opening a new exhibit right?" Cecil asks, grinning excitedly. "Vithya said it was just unveiled but not open to the public just yet."

"The cephalopod exhibit," Carlos nods. "Grand opening this Saturday."

"Octopi right?"

"And cuttlefish. No eating these," he teases, flicking water at Cecil with his fingers.

"Ha ha, no those are too hard to catch to eat all the time," Cecil giggles, nudging him with his pelt-covered shoulder.

They fall into a silence that isn't exactly uncomfortable but there is a heaviness to it as they look at each other, the events of the night before thick in the air between them. Carlos bites his lip for a moment, considering the selkie before saying, "Come up on the boat with me?"

"Sure, I'll meet you over there." Cecil pulls his pelt on and swims out to the boat as a seal, much faster than Carlos can hope to keep up. Donning his mask he follows under the water back to the boat, hauling himself up onto the splash deck and discarding the oxygen tank. Cecil does a few laps of the boat to give Carlos time then slides easily up onto the boat next to him, shifting and standing to step out of his pelt. He's wearing a pair of aqua shorts and a pink and black striped t-shirt, all perfectly dry. He politely looks around the boat at all the look-but-don't-touch equipment while Carlos wriggles his way out of his wetsuit.

“Damn thing,” Carlos mutters and the sound of something heavy hitting the deck makes Cecil turn and look. Carlos is dressed down to a white tank top and a pair of...well, frankly, hideous swim trunks. Who put that combination of colors and shapes together, and why did Carlos think those were acceptable? But the rest of the package is certainly tempting. The scientist leans over the deck to wring his wet hair out over the side of the boat, fighting as his dark hair sticks to his neck. "I didn't take you away from work, did I?"

"No, no. I was done for the day." Cecil leans against the side of the boat and tips his head back to look up at the clear blue sky. "It should be a crime to be forced to work in an office on such a nice day, anyway."

"Truer words," Carlos agrees, nodding. He kicks the wetsuit the side and inhales deeply. "Ah, fresh air." He leans against the opposite side of the boat, looking at Cecil with a slight smile. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Cecil laughs softly, looking the lycan up and down. The white tank top is almost see through and clings to him in just the right ways. The sight is dampened slightly by the damp bandage clinging to Carlos' bicep, where he knows a bite mark matching his seal form is slowly healing. The thought still makes him feel off-center, and he keeps his eyes up on Carlos' face.

"So, uh..." the lycan looks down at the deck, skin prickling with the slight chill of coming up out of the water. It occurs to Cecil that he looks a little nervous. Mouth moving unconsciously like he is choosing his words carefully. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about. After last night and all."

The selkie is suddenly much less relaxed. "Oh yeah?"

He nods, glancing up at him. "Yeah uh. And this is..." he huffs and takes a breath. "Okay, this is a little weird for me to talk about, so just bear with me, okay?" At Cecil's nod, Carlos asks "What do you know about lycans?"

Cecil blinks. "What do I know about... lycans? What do you mean?"

"Like, our uh...do you know anything about our...our habits or traits or anything?"

"Well I used to think you shifted on the full moon but that's obviously wrong." Cecil taps his fingers along the railing behind him, thinking. “Um...I've heard things like...like that you guys have rituals? Like painting yourselves in blood and mud and dancing under the moon naked and biting humans to change them.”

Carlos bursts out laughing. "What?!"

The selkie blushes as Carlos tips his head back, clearly amused. "I didn't say I thought it was  _true_."

Carlos puts a hand over his face and shakes his head, giggling. “I bet you thought part of it was true.”

" _Is_  any part of it true?" Cecil asks.

"We do have rituals, and in the past there was probably painting ourselves...probably with blood, if you go back far enough. But no one does that anymore, at least where I'm from, and we could never change a human by biting them."

"So... how do you make... more of you?" Cecil tries to ask delicately.

"Well, when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much—” Carlos gets cut off as Cecil swings playfully at him, laughing at Carlos' antics. It makes Carlos chuckle again. “By making little baby lycans, like most species.”

"Well what about the pecking order?" Cecil asks, obviously confused. "I heard that lycans need permission to breed from the alpha male."

"First, there isn't an alpha male. There's an alpha pair," Carlos explains. "Lycan packs are neither patriarchal or matriarchal. The alpha pair are the leaders of the pack, and they help make decisions that effect the whole group and would be counted on to at least produce one litter to help carry on the line. But they do not control who the others decide to become mates with, nor do they keep the others from having offspring." He shrugs, delivering the words dry like reading the weather. "There's too few lycans left in the world to be worrying about dominance and hierarchies. The only place I hear that's still a common thing is in Russia, but the lycan population there never really dropped."

"I also heard that lycans um..." Cecil trails off, looking down at his feet. The man across from him stays silent, waiting. "That they are monogamous and die when their mates die." He glances up then to catch Carlos looking uncomfortable, aligning his thoughts again. Carlos opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally speaks.

“Okay, um...” The lycan crosses his arms. A defensive gesture, Carlos thinks. “That's all...half-truths. The thing is...the thing is. Um. Okay, so. We. Lycans, I mean, uh, they...they don't...casually date,” he finally decides on. Cecil frowns, not sure what that means, so Carlos continues, “For whatever reason in our...brain chemistry, or whatever, we form deep attachments very quickly. So if we start dating someone, it is always with the...the intent to one day mark that person as our mate.”

Cecil's mouth actually falls open in shock, equal parts terrified and flabbergasted and the sputtering noise he makes is enough to make Carlos want to jump off the boat. “But—what? What?? How do you—you don't date? But what if you find out they're terrible in bed or you hate the way they eat or something?”

“Well, obviously you try to find out the important things before you get too far along. You do the best you can, you try to be open as much as you can with someone you're really interested in. But sometimes you...don't.” Carlos looks out at the ocean as he says that, and Cecil notices the pause but doesn't comment. “If we grow attached, bonds start to form with that person and you begin to consider them a pack mate. Of course, becoming actual mates solidifies the bond far more than a normal pack mate, but once our minds make the connection it is very hard to sever that bond.”

“But you can?” Cecil asks, trying to wrap his mind around this.

Carlos swallows and nods. “It's...not easy, but it can be done. For a pack mate, anyway. If it was your actual mate, if you were to lose that person for whatever reason, it can be devastating.”

Cecil is almost afraid to ask. “How so?”

"I've heard of lycan's withering away after their mate passes on, but I've never had to witness it. It happens with the elderly in humans, apparently. When one goes, the other sometimes loses the will to go on, deteriorates. With lycans it can be more pronounced, but it can be overcome." He coughs a little. "It can happen with people you aren't mated to, if you've formed a pack bond that is strong enough or it is someone you had the intention of marking as your mate. Anyway, it is very hard to go through but it is recoverable.”

Cecil looks a little scared, silent as he stares at Carlos. "This isn't an, 'If you break up with me I'll die,' talk, is it?"

"No!" Carlos says quickly, shaking his head. "No, no, that's not what I wanted to get across at all." He takes a slow breath and lays it all out. "I want you to be aware that if you want to try this with me, I won't see it as casual or just a fling. I don't want you to think I'm not taking this seriously. Because I am, as tentative as this may be. I have to take this seriously. And from here on out, you'll know that and if that is too much, if  _all this_ is too much, we can just break things off and go back to being friends." It would be like a vice in his chest for months, but he could get over that. "I don't want there to be any misunderstandings. I'm not asking for forever, but you need to know that it's on the table.”

Everything is quiet after that, the words settling over them and fading into the sound of waves lapping gently at the sides of the boat. This is not at all what Cecil expected to hear today, but a lot of things seem a lot clearer. “This is a lot to take in,” he finally says.

“I know. I'm sorry, I just...”

“No, I'm glad you told me,” he assures the lycan. “It's just...wow.”

“Yeah.”

Cecil thinks over their argument the night before, their text conversation. “Has this happened to you before?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Carlos stiffens visibly. “I'd rather not talk about that right now,” he murmurs.

Nodding, Cecil takes a step forward and puts his hand on Carlos' arm, stroking down the warm skin to his hand and taking hold of it. He needs the reassurance just as much as Carlos does, he thinks. “Okay. Not a topic for today. That's fine. Um...well...since we're talking about, um, misunderstandings, what do you know about selkies? In the name of full disclosure.”

Carlos licks his lips and recites like he's read the facts straight from a book. "Selkies are originally from Scotland and Ireland, but the belief is the first selkie came from Scotland. Thought to be mostly female," he waves at Cecil. "Obviously false. They are shifters that use a seal pelt to change from human to seal shape. Some stories say that once you shift back to seal form you can never return to land—another myth, it seems. Um...." He wrinkles his nose. "A lot of stories claim that selkies are faithless lovers and the call of the sea is too great...I'm hoping that one is false?"

Cecil's lips twist in a wry smile. "Only true if we're forced to move away from the coastlines or other bodies of water."

"But that shouldn't be an issue, right?"

"Unless you plan on moving inland with me suddenly, then no." Cecil plays with his hair. "A seal away from water is very, very lost."

"I traveled hundreds of miles to find a home by the sea," Carlos says with a widening smile. "I think that won't be a problem."

"From someone who has an original book of selkie stories that's a surprisingly small amount of information." Cecil teases gently.

“Like I said, most of them seemed obviously false. And I'm sure I butchered some of the translations,” Carlos says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You can probably read it better than I can. Josie was giving me a hard time about it the other day, saying that some of the pups could understand it and I should practice.”

"Your grandmother?" Carlos asks, wanting to make sure he is remember who is who in the colony.

"In a way," he hedges.

Carlos gives him a bemused look. "You like giving half-answers to things, don't you."

"It keeps you on your toes," he laughs. "But she is the matriarch. The alpha, I guess you could say.”

The lycan hums, and he has questions about that, but they don't seem pertinent to the current conversation. "Well, do you have anything I should know about dating a selkie?" he asks. "Since the books are woefully lacking in the how-to department?"

"Well, uh..." he blushes "We're more casual than you guys are."

"Okay?"

"Less.... monogamous."

“Ah. Um...” Carlos frowns down at the deck. “Lycan aren't necessarily monogamous."

“Really?” Cecil asks, surprised.

Carlos scuffs a foot against the deck of the boat, embarrassed. "It's not unheard of but not many lycan are willing to attempt having more than one mate. We're just so serious about all of our lovers. It's dangerous to love that much. There's more chance to lose someone."

"Oh gods, I didn't even think of...don't worry, it doesn't have to be an issue,” Cecil says hastily. “I just need to know upfront that we're, you know. Exclusive.”

“Yes, thank you," Carlos says, shoulders slumping a little. His relief is palpable. "I don't want to seem limiting, but I've personally never dated more than one person simultaneously and we've just started and I want to get to know you and lo—spend time with you and be really, you know, good? Solid? If that ever were to come up."

Cecil's head bobs emphatically. “Of course! Nothing to worry about now, anyway! We can, you know, cross that bridge if we get there.” He squeezes Carlos' hand again, smiling. "Yeah. Um. Well, there's other stuff but it doesn't matter since neither of us can have pups." Then Cecil glances at Carlos' shorts. "Right?"

The lycan laughs and turns a rosy red along his cheekbones. “Right. No pups.”

"Then the other stuff is just fun facts," he laughs. "I mean there's, like, etiquette. Usually only mates and close friends groom each other's hair. Or parents and children. Touching someone's pelt who isn't your mate or child is also a big no-no."

"Don't touch the hair, don't touch the pelt. Easy enough," Carlos nods, eyes tracking over Cecil's hair. "Not going to lie, it's tempting."

"Is it?" he looks down at his loose braid. "My hair isn't as interesting as yours. Its boring and straight."

"It's beautiful," he says, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer, their fingers still laced together. He is taller than Cecil and the size of the boat makes the step feel intimate. "You have gorgeous hair. Long and flowing."

“But yours is so much nicer," he argues, but Cecil smiles anyway at the compliment. "It's curly and wavy. Are there... um... rules of etiquette among lycans?"

"Not for hair," Carlos says, indulgent. He has a feeling Cecil would love nothing more than to have a few hours to play with his curly dark hair.

"What about fur?"

He shakes his head. "I prefer people don't touch my stomach. For personal reasons."

"What about things like.. petting the head and body?" Cecil doesn't want to make Carlos uncomfortable by petting him like a dog

"As long as you don't talk to me like a dog, I'll be alright," he says. "And I don't do fetch."

He snickers at the mental image. No, Carlos does not strike him as the type to blindly run after whatever someone throws. "So you don't like tennis balls?"

The lycan hums, making a show of thinking it over. “I might could be persuaded to play ball with someone, if I  _really_ liked them,” he teases.”

"What about things that are poisonous to natural dogs?" Cecil thinks about the chocolate he had brought and forgotten in Carlos' fridge. “I didn't attempt to kill you with chocolate, did I?”

“Luckily that is one trait we do not share with our canine counterparts,” he sighs. “No chocolate, that would be truly tragic. No food allergies at all, that I know of. Lycans have their own allergies, though."

"Like what? Wolfsbane? The mailman?” Cecil asks, cheeky.

"Like the little hoops in your ears," he replies, nodding to Cecil's earrings. Cecil's hand flies up to one of them, startled. In the upper holes of his ear he has stainless steel studs with gems in them, but the thin hoops hanging from his ear lobes are some he found at a yard sale. “Silver allergy. Can't touch it.”

"Oh my gods! I'm so sorry, I didn't know—”

"It's alright," Carlos says, smiling and shaking his head. "You didn't know. You don't have to forsake wearing your jewelry for me. Just know we won't be holding hands if you've got silver bracelets and rings."

"Most of my stuff is stainless or surgical steel," he mutters. Cecil can't always afford to buy new Sterling silver jewelry, but the steel things he finds at thrift stores are just as nice and most people can't tell the difference anyway. But now he is wondering just how many things in his extensive collection might be potentially deadly to his boyfriend.

“Just know that when I shower you with gifts you'll have to settle for white gold,” Carlos teases, running his thumb over Cecil's knuckles affectionately. Then he nods to Cecil's pockets. “Do you have your phone on you?”

"No, my case isn't waterproof," he sighs. He really ought to fix that but all the nice cases are so expensive and bulky.

"Nothing damageable in your pockets?" Carlos asks.

Warning bells sound in Cecil's head but he doesn't catch on why. "No...?"

Carlos takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around Cecil and lifting. He laughs as Cecil gets about three seconds to realize what is about to happen before Carlos launches them both off the side of the boat and into the ocean with a loud splash. He surfaces and gasps for air, his long bangs plastered to his face. "THAT WAS A DIRTY TRICK!"

The other man surfaces next to him, thick hair stuck heavy to his head. He blows water from his face. "You've been staring at me half soaked for twenty minutes, it's only fair," he grins.

Cecil splashes him. "I did not stare!"

"Did too!" he laughs, splashing back.

A playful splash war ensues then, their swimming abilities evened out now that Cecil is no longer in his seal form. But their lack of sleep tires them quick enough and they tread water close together.

“You'll come with me to the opening on Saturday, won't you?” Carlos asks, taking Cecil's hand.

“That would be great. You aren't going to be busy with work stuff?”

He shakes his head. “Not my department. I'm just there to take a look at things from a guest's perspective. But I can show you around while you're there, if you'd like.”

“Neat!” Cecil blurts, then winces. Carlos chuckles, aware that Cecil hates that word but somehow it has become his go-to when he's excited. “I mean...oh, you know what I mean.”

"I know what you mean,” he agrees. “But...do we have to wait till Saturday to see each other again?"

Cecil's heart flutters in his chest. "You want to see me sooner?"

"Of course I do," Carlos says softly, drifting closer.. "I was going to ask if I could take you to dinner."

"I'd like that." Cecil hesitantly reaches out to take Carlos' hands. The lycan squeezes them, pulling them around in a little circle in the water like two dancers.

"Tonight?"

"Sounds good. When and where?"

"We've got a few hours. Is that enough time for you to get ready for Gino's at seven?" Carlos asks. "I'll pick you up?"

"I think I can manage. But I should get going if I want to get the salt water out of my hair.” Cecil feels a gentle squeeze from Carlos before the lycan lets him go, and they paddle back to the boat and climb back onto the deck. "What time is it now?"

"A little after 4:30," Carlos says, checking his nice dry phone. "And this date will be a proper date—no not-knowing it's a date, no teeny children, I promise."

Cecil laughs at that, picking up his pelt. When he turns back he catches Carlos looking down at his own wet outfit, his shirt clinging to his thin frame the same way Carlos' had been earlier. The little sneak. “Is it a fancy date?” he asks, trying not to squirm under Carlos' gaze.

“Well, I might just wear a tie, but only because it's you," he teases.

“Hm. Then I need to get home and pick out something pretty, to match that kind of formality,” he laughs again.

Carlos walks him back to the splash deck, holding a hand out to help Cecil kneel down. "Be careful on your way home."

"I will. Seven?"

“Seven,” Carlos nods.

“I can't wait.” With one last lingering look, Cecil shifts and darts off, disappearing into the depths. He has a date to get ready for.


End file.
